The Secret To Alchemy
by jonanimexd
Summary: Draco Malfoy considers himself a very successful man. After the recurring nightmares of the war disappeared, he managed to find himself a beautiful wife—pertaining to The Sacred Twenty-Eight, no less—and have his first child. However, he can't help but notice something, or, rather, someone, is missing. His first love . . . His Charming Raven. Draco/OC. Full summary inside.
1. Summary

_«_ _ **Alchemy**_ _: any magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.»_

It has been years since the Second Wizarding War took place. Both Muggle and Wizarding world-alike seem to have somewhat recovered from the events.

Draco Malfoy considers himself a very successful man, albeit everything. After the recurring nightmares disappeared, he managed to find himself a beautiful wife—pertaining to The Sacred Twenty-Eight, no less—have his first child. Astoria and Scorpius have given him a certain sense of family he hadn't known as deeply before.

However, as successful as he may be, Draco can't help but feel something, or, rather, someone, is missing.

He can barely remember her name; it's been so long. As he walks down the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, knowing that she is gone, he can't help but reminisce—quite vividly—about her and their adventurous days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His first love . . . His Charming Raven.


	2. Accio Musica

✿ _**Need You Now**_ _/ Lady Antebellum_ ✿

❀ _**What I've Done**_ _/ Linkin Park_ ❀

❁ _**The Kill**_ _/ Thirty Seconds to Mars_ ❁

✾ _**Iris**_ _/ Goo Goo Dolls_ ✾

✿ _**I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme)**_ _/ John Rzeznik (Treasure Planet OST)_ ✿

❀ _**The Scientist**_ _/ Coldplay_ ❀

❁ _**Little Wonders**_ _/ Rob Thomas_ ❁

✾ _**Stitches**_ _/ Shawn Mendes_ ✾

✿ _**How to Save a Life**_ _/ The Fray_ ✿

❀ _**Let Me Go**_ _/ Avril Lavigne_ ❀

❁ _**With or Without You**_ _/ U2_ ❁

✾ _**Little Lion Man**_ _/ Mumford & Sons _✾

✿ _**Amnesia**_ _/ 5 Seconds of Summer_ ✿

❀ _**Numb**_ _/ Linkin Park_ ❀

❁ _**Have Faith In Me**_ _/ A Day to Remember_ ❁

✾ _**The Reason**_ _/ Hoobastank_ ✾

✿ _**Thunder**_ _/ Boys Like Girls_ ✿

❀ _**I'm a Mess**_ _/ Ed Sheeran_ ❀

❁ _**Paranoid**_ _/ The Jonas Brothers_ ❁

✾ _**A Beautiful Lie**_ _/ Thirty Seconds to Mars_ ✾

✿ _**Boulevard of Broken Dreams**_ _/ Green Day_ ✿

❀ _**I'm Free (Heaven Helps the Man)**_ _/ Kenny Loggins_ ❀

❁ _**Somebody's Eyes**_ _/ Karla Bonoff_ ❁

✾ _**Secrets**_ _/ One Republic_ ✾

✿ _**Until You're Mine**_ _/ Demi Lovato_ ✿

❀ _**Lullaby**_ _/ Nickleback_ ❀

❁ _**Ex's & Oh's**_ _/ Elle King_ ❁

✾ _**I Surrender**_ _/ A Day to Remember_ ✾

✿ _**Never**_ _/ Moving Pictures_ ✿

❀ _**Scotland**_ _/ The Lumineers_ ❀

❁ _**Sound the Bugle**_ _/ Bryan Adams (Spirit OST)_ ❁

✾ _**Turning Pages**_ _/ Sleeping At Last_ ✾

✿ _**We're Not Kids Anymore**_ _/ Dead Red Sea_ ✿

❀ _**Say You Won't Let Go**_ _/ James Arthur_ ❀

❁ _**If I Get High**_ _/ Nothing But Thieves_ ❁


	3. Prologue

_Nightingale tears . . ._

 _. . . Jobberknoll feathers . . ._

 _. . . Bat blood?_

Absolutely _no_ Lethe River water, mistletoe berries or Valerium sprigs were to fall into the brew, he reminded himself. Those would undoubtedly counter the desired effect.

He absentmindedly glanced at the vase of Forget-Me-Nots at the edge of the table. His wife liked to pick them from their garden for him. Something about reminding him of her love, she had said.

He didn't quite know, honestly, as he took out his wand and lit a blue flame underneath one of the Erlenmeyer flasks—brilliant wizard, that Emil. Terrible drinker, though. Couldn't even hold down his Firewhisky.

Should he add some Tentacula leaves, perhaps? He had gotten a few of those and at a very low price. Ten Galleons each, they cost. Sure, to the average witch or wizard, that didn't seem like such a steal. Nevertheless, he wasn't just any wizard. His family's funds came in handy when it came to stuff like this. They _were_ filthy rich, after all.

Draco stood in front of his apothecary table, his fingers drumming atop it as he halted his thoughts from being sidetracked. Various vials filled with strange-looking goo stared back at him while he poured over his plans. He needed to work this into the formula; he had to combine it for the proper outcome. But _how_? So far, all he'd come up with were these colorless, liquid concoctions and ways to cover his face with thick, black ash; it was giving him flashbacks of that Gryffindor git, Seamus, who had always managed to blow his eyebrows right off.

Nightingale tears, Jobberknoll feathers and Bat blood... Those were the necessary materials, were they not? Was he missing something? He ran a hand across his face in frustration for what seemed to be the millionth time, when—

"Father?"

Draco glanced up, finding his son rubbing his eye with the back of his sleeve. "What is it, Scorpius?" he said, his eyes focusing back on the task at hand. "I'm rather busy at the moment."

Scorpius walked slowly towards the table, his curious eyes glancing around at the odd-looking things surrounding him; it was the first time he was ever down here. His mother would never let him wander so far into the manor, so much of it was unknown to him. He certainly had a lot to explore. "What are you doing?"

Draco gave a sigh, sealing his acquired rat's tail back into its bottle. He veered sideways, giving the younger Malfoy a look of irritation. "Something important. Scorpius, really—" He looked towards the stairs, thinking he'd have to put some sort of Password Charm to the entrance. "Go to bed. Merlin's beard, it's past your bedtime! Your mother will have a fit if she finds you here."

"Father, do you love Mum?"

That halted all activity on the table. Setting his experiment aside, for once, Draco gave his son his full attention. "I harbor . . . certain feelings for her, that's for sure," he said carefully. "What brings on such a blunt question, son?"

Scorpius faltered. Would his father be angry if he found out he went through his things? Surely, he couldn't be _that_ mad. They were all strewn about in the back of his father's wardrobe, so they were bound to be found, sometime. "I—" He gulped. "I saw a picture . . . o-of you and a lady. She had a blue jacket—R-Ravenclaw, I reckon—and you were smiling while talking to her. You've never been so happy—not with Mum."

Draco stood silent. Scorpius thought he would explode in rage, but seeing as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened, he prodded the waters a bit more. "Who . . . who was she, Father?"

To Scorpius' surprise, the eldest Malfoy gave a small smile, the slightest quirk of the lips. "My first love," he responded.


	4. Chapter One: The Peculiar Photograph

Post-war living never tasted so bittersweet. It had been approximately nineteen years since the Second Wizarding War. However, not much was different, to many's surprise.

The Hogwarts castle was rebuilt, of course. A team effort, that had been. At least, that's what the fabled Golden Trio had deemed it.

Ah, yes. Potter, Granger and Weaselb—uh, _Weasley_. The three students who managed to attract mischief like no other witch or wizard their age. As expected from these war heroes, they had taken it upon themselves to restore the old thing back to its former glory. Of course, Albus Dumbledore was deeply missed when they reopened their doors, but Draco was sure ol' McGonagall would do a splendid job welcoming the new generation of witches and wizards alike.

As he sat in one of the many benches in his wife's garden, Draco sighed. Also as expected, he wasn't regarded as a hero like his perfect schoolmates. Nevertheless, he had money, he had power . . .

 _Everything mother and father wanted._

Indeed, had they been amongst the living, he was sure that his parents would be very proud. But alas, as life would have it, Lucius and Narcissa had perished, quite dramatically, after the war had ended.

After being chased and alienated for his former allegiance, Lucius Malfoy had been faced with an ultimatum: surrender himself willingly to the Ministry of Magic—probably to be sentenced to many, _many_ years in Azkaban—or a more forceful approach would be taken. Being the coward that he always was and staying true to his colors, the man opted for the latter. Unfortunately, Narcissa had been caught in the crossfire.

And then there was one. Draco Malfoy, of eighteen years old, the single owner of Malfoy manor. The first days would have been awful, if not for the company of the house-elves. Nonetheless, careful to not fall into his father's footsteps and make his same mistakes, the young man had given them practically his entire wardrobe and dismissed them.

Now, _that's_ where it got interesting. What does a young, tormented, rich fella do with a big house, tons of money and no one to share it with? Well, that was easy. Blow most of it off by drinking. The booze, it helped with the pain; it numbed him to the point where he could barely remember a thing. And that was all fun and games until he went dry.

With the alcohol, that is. I mean, money? He had a lot to spare. However, that old, bratty Madam Rosmerta who ran the Three Broomsticks cut him off, claiming that it was enough. Man, you use the Imperius Curse on someone once, under orders of the Dark Lord, and they hold it against you for life.

He was about to buy the whole damn place just so he could drink his sorrows away, when—

"Darling?"

Draco looked up to see the face of a woman he held most dear. Astoria Greengrass, his former friend Daphne's little sister and now his wife, was walking towards him with the most concerned expression he had ever seen.

"Are you alright, darling? I've been calling your name for the past five minutes," she explained.

The blond on the bench blinked. "I'm okay. Just . . . thinking."

The woman took a seat beside him, swinging her long, black cloak over the back of the bench. "What about?"

Draco pursed his lips. He didn't want to worry her or upset her by sharing his depressing thoughts. Instead, he chose to tell her part of it. "Of us, actually."

His wife seemed pleased, as if she did not notice the look of guilt on his face. "Thinking about how we met, I reckon?"

Plastering what he hoped was a cheerful smile on, he lied once more. "Yeah."

"I like that story", she said with a grin of her own and, immediately, Draco felt more guilt accumulate in the pit of his stomach. She was just trying to help with whatever he was going through. She didn't deserve to be lied to.

Opening his mouth to tell her the truth, she cut him off.

"I remember it so vividly, too." Astoria had a faraway look in her eye as she retold one of her favorite tales. "We were at the Three Broomsticks. I had just gotten there with some of my ex classmates—y'know, post-war reunions to chat a bit—when, there you were, yelling your head off at the poor barmaid. But she was one tough nut, I'll tell you that. She was screaming right back at you."

Draco chuckled. "And that's when you came to her aid."

"Of course!" the dark-haired lady exclaimed with mirth, "I wasn't about to let you run your mouth and get everyone kicked out. So, after convincing Daph—wouldn't let me out of her sight, that one—, I took you home. You broke down and, well," she laughed softly as she took hold of his hand. "I was your shoulder to cry on."

"You were there when I most needed someone," Draco finished, running his thumb over his wife's small hand.

Astoria smiled. "And I have been, ever since."

Upon hearing her, Draco managed a small grin. "And I will be eternally grateful." He raised her hand and planted a kiss on it.

The Malfoys shared a quiet moment, before Astoria clapped her hands. "Almost forgot! I was coming to get you because you need to take Scorpius to get his supplies—" To this, her husband groaned in annoyance and she rolled her eyes. "—since he's going away in about a week. It's your son's first year, Drakey, be a little more enthusiastic."

At the mention of his ridiculous pet-name, it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Whatever you say, dear."

"That's more like it," she approved as he stood up. "He's probably waiting for you in the dining room. Be good, both of you! I love you!"

Draco only smiled as a response.

* * *

As his lovely wife had said, the boy stood adjacent to one of the chairs. He had already finished his lunch, it seemed.

Draco nodded at his son, who was looking anything but happy. "Ready to go shopping?"

Said boy was staring at something in the far corner of the room, when he answered. "I guess so."

The elder Malfoy glanced behind him, internally sighing when he saw nothing there. Scorpius would often stare into space, but it was so intently, so focused, that Draco swore he truly was seeing something.

Maybe he could see the answer he was missing. Truth be told, he didn't really remember the story of how he met his wife. Astoria always seemed so happy whenever she got to share it, so he didn't have the heart to tell her.

But it wasn't the only thing he had forgotten. The Malfoy realized that, most of the time, he was missing bits and pieces of his everyday life. What he ate for breakfast, where he left his mortar and pestle, what he had to do, at the moment . . .

 _What_ was _I doing?_

Someone cleared their throat, and his steely-gray eyes landed on his slightly miffed offspring. "Father, are you there? Hello?"

Draco shook his head as the boy did the same with his hand, in front of his face. Reaching out, he grabbed his son's wrist, sending him a pointed look that would make Lucius proud. "Enough," he stated firmly.

Scorpius seemed to shrink at his gaze, and Draco instantly regretted it. "Sorry, Father," he mumbled as he glanced at the floor.

Draco sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Perusing the many shops of Diagon Alley had proven to be one of the dullest tasks he ever received. As a child, the eldest Malfoy recalled how excited he was upon realising they were shopping for his supplies; Hogwarts was an escape for many students, him included, who couldn't wait to leave their home to spend time with their friends.

From his peripheral view, he could make out his son fidgeting enthusiastically. The corners of Draco's mouth upturned when he noticed Scorpius trying to downplay his eagerness when he saw another young wizard receive his wand.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Draco whispered over to his son. "Magic."

The boy looked up with wide eyes, soon narrowing them. "It's all right." He crossed his arms and uncrossed them the next second. "Well . . . I guess it's more than all right."

His father chuckled amusedly. Soon enough, though, it was Scorpius' turn.

The man in front of them, Garrick Ollivander, was smiling when he beckoned them over. "Don't be shy, boy."

Draco studied him warily. This was the same poor, old soul that Voldemort himself had captured and tortured for two whole years until the Chosen One came to his aid. He could still hear the man's screams as he writhed in pain on the floors of the manor.

 _I wonder if he recognizes me._

However, as he saw the young Malfoy boy slowly walk up to him, Ollivander fixed them both with a friendly smile.

"Mr. Malfoy," the old man began. "Long time, no see."

* * *

Elm wood, dragon heartstring core, 18 inches. That was the wand that had chosen his son.

"Same as grandfather's, right?"

"Same as your grandfather's," the tallest blond male confirmed as he and his carbon copy waded through the now-busy streets of Diagon Alley. Apparently, everyone had decided to do their back-to-school shopping at the last minute.

Scorpius decided it was the time to bring up another strange topic. "So . . . about that-that lady in the picture . . ."

"Hm?"

"What was her name?"

 _Her name._ Draco thought long and hard about the answer to his son's question. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to tell him about it, more so that he couldn't.

 _Draco searched through various drawers desperately. He was so close to creating a potion that could cure the common cold—rather than pointing your wand and making it go away with magic, it would be a matter of sipping a bit of it and waiting. True, it wasn't effective immediately, but he really thought he was onto something._

 _Cursing the day he let all the house-elves go, he proceeded to rip open the doors to the giant wardrobe and huffed at the ludicrous amount of clothes lined up. Still, the master bedroom was already a mess; what were a few more coats on the floor?, he figured._

 _Fishing out his newly-acquired wand, he swished it around and watched as the clothes let themselves out and made a neat stack on the ground._

 _With a much clearer view of its insides, the Malfoy proceeded to dig around the edges of the dark piece of furniture._

 _He was about to growl in frustration and slam the doors shut, when something caught his eye. It was a rectangle, roughly the size of a Knut, in the left corner of the wardrobe._

 _His curiosity got the best of him. Pressing a finger against it, he noted as it caved and turned sideways. A few hisses and clicks were heard, but no secret compartment was revealed._

 _"Forget it," he muttered in annoyance, for he was wasting his time. However, a bigger rectangle appeared and hovered in front of his eyes, almost teasingly._

 _Grabbing it, Draco marveled at a very rare sight. It was himself, sitting beside a fairly-attractive girl he did not know. She had gorgeous, dark, curly hair and chocolate-colored eyes. She chuckled at something he had said, then raised a hand to her mouth to cover it. He, on the other hand, remained looking straight at her, before putting an arm around her shoulders and smiling brightly. Both of them sported Hogwarts robes, but she had a Ravenclaw insignia on hers._

 _He was quite startled by these news. He had been friends with a Ravenclaw?_

 _But, judging by how close they looked, they couldn't have been just old mates._

 _"Draco!" A voice called, interrupting his train of thought. "Supper time!"_

 _The man scurried to hide his newfound information, as soon as possible. He didn't think Astoria would appreciate watching her husband laugh with another woman. "Coming, dear!" He yelled back, just in case she thought of going up and checking on him._

 _Storing the picture into the back of the wardrobe—and making the coats waltz back into it for stealth effect—, he ran out of the bedroom._

 _Descending the staircase, it hit him. It was like a light going off in his head. He was filled with a warm sensation as he remembered the strange young woman._

 _He was in love with her._

Days later, his son had come down to his study to inform him of his "latest discovery" on his weekly journey through things that didn't belong to him. Children, he figured.

"I-I don't remember her name," he answered honestly.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. It was very unlike his father to stutter, much less in public. "Okay." He shrugged. "Well, anyway, if you didn't want the picture, all you needed to do was say so."

It was Draco's turn to scrunch his face up in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know the picture I showed you, the other day?"

"Right?"

"I found it again, today, and," Scorpius swallowed the saliva in his mouth. "Her face . . . it was all scratched."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Um, hi! I'm Jonanime, the author of this average-written fanfic. I hope you're enjoying it so far, even if it's a little vague, right now. I promise it gets better. xD**

 **I just wanted to take the time to clear something up... Um, I haven't finished reading HP... *evades the tomatoes being hurled at her* ...and I have not even bought Cursed Child yet... *evades flying chairs and jinxes* ...and I apologize that this story doesn't follow those as faithfully. I've decided to mix the books and movies and add a little bit of my imagination. Again, I apologize ( _then again, this is fanfiction, so what'd you expect?_ ), but I've had this idea for a while and I'm a bit impatient to post it. Hopefully, you guys will still like it and continue reading.**

 **Let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always appreciated! :D**


	5. Chapter Two: Look for the Signs

There were zero-to-none ways to make Astoria mad. She had always been quite the understanding one, no matter what idiotic thing Draco came up with.

As he buried himself into his work, the Malfoy wasn't so sure about that, anymore. Ever since he had found the picture, strange things had been occurring to him and his family. Pissing off his wife was a first, for example.

But, as he had tried explaining before, how could she be jealous of a girl in an old picture? While curly-Raven—as he and Scorpius had resorted to calling her—was certainly fair, she was his past; Astoria was his future.

However, he never recalled his heart thumping so erratically when looking at his wife. He hadn't had the feeling of butterflies in his stomach like he did when he saw the piece of paper.

 _I must be stark-raving mad_ , he mused, ruffling his hair with both hands in frustration. Risking a glance at the object currently ruining his life, he sighed and picked it up. He examined the marks covering the pretty face he had seen, barely days ago, and frowned. He hoped he could remember her facial features well. He didn't want to imagine her differently when he thought about her.

 _But I won't,_ he reminded himself. _I won't think about her, anymore._

Setting down the moving picture face-down as to not see the recurring image, he was met with another odd sight. There was something written on the paper, markings of some sort.

Straightening up in his chair and raising the piece to the level of his eyes, he realized they were actual letters.

 _They grow in mother's shadow,_

 _Painted the color of gloom._

 _Your greatest achievement_

 _Will certainly help you bloom._

 _The secret to alcheMy is_

And then the word at the end was smudged, probably in the author's haste scribbling it down. Whoever wrote it had terrible penmanship. The words were jotted messily, almost urgently, atop the parchment.

Still, what did it mean?

Thuds suddenly echoed behind him. Somebody was coming downstairs.

Unsure of what he would have to do with it if his wife saw it again, he shoved the picture inside the vase of flowers beside his stack of notes.

He dug his wet fingers out of the vase and marveled at his own stupidity. He could've just hidden it in between the notes.

His embarrassment further grew upon noticing it was, in fact, not his wife, but the rambunctious ragamuffin he called his son descending the stairs.

"Even Mum could tell something's off with you," the young one stated with a slight sneer. "You have that odd look on your face, again."

Draco briefly inspected himself in the mirror on the far wall, right of him. Turning back towards the boy, he scowled. "Very funny."

Scorpius shrugged and sat on the stool in front of the table, then retrieved the picture from its pitiful hiding place. Water tended to act as a magnifying glass, but this was not the case as the parchment grew soggy. Nevertheless, he didn't think his father would like another flaw in his plans to be pointed out. That's why, instead, the young Malfoy heir decided to open up and explain another rare occurrence he had been experiencing.

"Father, there's something I've been keeping from you."

Draco perked up at this. His ears almost seemed to itch towards Scorpius like those of a boarhound. "What is it?"

The young boy began to squirm in the tall seat. He quickly hopped off and proceeded to mimic one of his father's favorite habits: pacing up and down across the room. "I've been . . . nervous. Mum's been acting odd since the whole thing."

That was true, Draco silently agreed, his eyes still on his son.

The blond boy scratched the back of his head, then turned over the picture in his hand. It had magical properties, by the looks of it; it was nearly perfectly dry, he noticed, as he stared hard at the words. "Actually, there's been some—"

" _Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!_ "

Said boy's immediate reaction was to shove the parchment in his pocket as slyly as he could, before slowly turning over to face the owner of the voice. "Yes, Mum?"

"What are you doing down here?" she asked as she came down the last steps, then crossing her arms. "I've told you not to bother your father when he's in his study."

Draco was going to elaborate, when Scorpius beat him to it. "I was just asking him about a new thing he's been working on, this week. I offered to help out—you know, so I could have an advantage over everyone else and impress the Potions Master. But, whatever it is, it's got quite the foul-smelling odor. Could've sworn it was a Dungbomb! So, Father's advised me to stay away. I was just heading upstairs."

Astoria stood in her spot, evidently trying not to crack a smile at the story, while Draco sat, awestruck, at how good Scorpius was at lying.

"All right, then," she conceded. "I actually came down to fetch you. Got a lot to get ready, right? Seeing as tomorrow . . ." Her voice faded away as tears began prickling in the back of her eyes.

After all, the next day, Scorpius was to leave for his first year at Hogwarts.

The small heir rolled his eyes at seeing her behavior change so suddenly. " _Mum_ ," he whined.

Astoria was quick to wipe her eyes, trying to remain strong in front of her baby boy. She couldn't believe he was already heading off to wizarding school. "Right, right. Mustn't start bawling, got to practice for when we're in front of the other students. Wouldn't want to embarrass you." Yet, as she said it, her nose became red and she choked out a sob, before exiting the room.

Scorpius felt mildly annoyed, yet guilty, at the same time. Pulling the parchment out of his pocket, he handed it to his father. "Hide this." And he ran after his mother.

Draco watched as his son's feet disappeared above the floor, and glanced back to the picture. His own face was there, bright and clear as day, while his companion's remained indiscernible under the slash marks. He would try to restore it somehow, he decided. Putting it under his notes, he stood up and silently trudged upstairs.

* * *

By 10 o' clock on the morning of September 1st, everything was packed and ready to go. Scorpius Malfoy bounced slightly as he stood on King's Cross Station's Platform 9 3/4. The infamous Hogwarts Express would pick him up here and take him to the place where his parents had loads of adventures. He had heard so many intriguing stories about the school, mostly from his mother, since his father refused to go into much detail. And, although he wouldn't get to experience what it would be like to go to school with the-boy-who-lived, his expectations were high. Surely, Peeves the Poltergeist and the feasts in the Great Hall would prove most entertaining.

He risked a glance behind him. His mother had her handkerchief out. She was like a fountain, that one; hadn't stopped crying since yesterday. His father, however, remained expressionless. Scorpius knew that, deep inside, Draco would also miss him. He was his partner in crime, after all, and the one who guarded his most precious secret.

At the sound of the train's horn and ferryman's call, indicating that they were now to board, Astoria let out a whimper and put a hand on her son's shoulder. Scorpius managed a wry smile. He would miss her very much, but he wouldn't say it aloud—couldn't risk her having another crying attack.

He felt himself being turned around and his mother's face appeared in his range of vision. Her puffy eyes and red nose made him want to hug her as tightly as possible, but he refrained wile she gave her little speech. "You be good, now, dear. I know you'll have a wonderful time, over there. Make as many friends as you can and write as much as you want," she said, bringing him into her arms.

Scorpius nodded against her shoulder, muttering an "I love you" that made fresh tears spring from her brown orbs.

After she released him, he turned to his father. He was a bit uncertain about what to do. Should he tell him? Should he wait after he was inside the castle, and write it to him in a letter?

Shaking his head lightly, Scorpius extended his hand.

Draco resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow, and complied. He took his son's hand and gave it a firm shake. Before the young Malfoy could retract it, though, Draco pulled him in for a hug. He really would miss Scorpius a great deal. There was no need to be so stubborn about showing that to him.

His son's arms tightened their hold as Draco patted his back in a loving manner. However, before pulling back from the embrace, the eldest blond heard him whisper:

 _"Look for the signs."_

Draco's expression turned puzzled as he leaned back to stare at his son. This one grinned half-heartedly and nodded. "Don't forget to work on your brain-teaser, Dad."

While watching his son pick up his owl's cage, Draco locked eyes with someone across the way. It was none other than the boy whom he'd despised many years ago, the same one who was tormented at his expense, yet saved him anyway.

Harry saw him and offered the slightest of nods, accompanied by a smile. The small acknowledgement served a purpose, perhaps to say he no longer harbored any animosity towards the Malfoy. As this one returned the gesture, he felt as if a load lifted right off of his shoulders.

Turning back to his son, he observed how the youngling chose a compartment filled with other children and waved at his parents. These waved back and remained in place to witness as the train sped off, a couple of minutes later.

It wasn't until it was completely out of sight that his wife asked, "Wait, did he just call you _Dad_?"

* * *

The weeks that followed were truly the most quiet Draco ever spent in the Wiltshire mansion. The place was usually in an uproar due to his son and wife's constant running around.

The only interesting thing that had taken place was Scorpius' letter informing them that he had—as expected—been sorted into Slytherin house. Astoria had jumped for joy and began writing back immediately.

The excitement gradually died down as the Malfoys went about their every day lives. His wife spent most of her time in her garden, whereas he busied himself admiring his rather large collection of Dark artefacts.

Under ridiculously huge glass cases, the hexed trinkets stared back at him and his unfocused eyes. What did the boy mean by 'brain-teaser'? According to a Muggle book he had found in Lucius' extensive library—which had probably been taken from the _Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office_ —it was defined as 'a problem or puzzle, typically one designed to be solved for amusement'.

But that wasn't what Scorpius meant. I mean, he wasn't amused about this strange riddle, at all. It made no sense.

 _Look for the signs_ , Scorpius had said. _Look for the signs_.

Draco stood in the middle of the dark room, brooding. "What bloody signs?" he muttered, his hand coming to rub his chin in thought as he started to walk around the large encasings.

After a couple of minutes went by, he let out a groan. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He returned to his study, his mood a sour one, having not found anything.

Making his way towards his table, he sat on the high stool and proceeded to have another staring contest with mere objects. The vials on the shelf did nothing but bore and further frustrate him. He didn't even want to continue the potion he had been creating that day when Scorpius had burst in with his questions.

Drowsy with the lack of activity around the manor, Draco laid his arms atop the table, lowered his head, and soon found himself drifting off and dreaming of the most peculiar things.


	6. Chapter Three: Mathrrid comma Melody

_Pained screams echoed in his ears . . ._

 _. . . A vast and beautiful field of flowers . . ._

 _. . . Warmth. Someone gently embracing him._

Heavy lids droopily opened as Draco slowly raised himself from his apothecary table. There was a small pool of liquid atop the mahogany structure, and it was with great disgust and embarrassment that he realized it could be traced back to the right corner of his mouth.

A sweet sort of smell wafted through the air and into his nostrils. Glancing towards the boiling Erlenmeyer flask, he raised an eyebrow. Had he lit the flame before his impromptu nap?

Either way, that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye. The brew inside the glass had turned a strange purple-ish color.

"Odd," he voiced, inspecting the object more closely. Lowering himself to see underneath it, he hummed, uncertain, and extinguished the flame. Right there, just behind the flask, he saw a blue petal. The vase of Forget-Me-Nots had somehow moved closer to the solution.

 _Blue—_ "Astoria?" he called. "Astoria, did you . . . ?" But his voice dulled. His wife had never been into participating in any of his experiments. She couldn't possibly have been throwing things in and mixing them around.

With a swish of his wand, Draco had lifted the conical laboratory flask and brought it to him. Against his better judgement, he swayed it under his nose and took a whiff.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then . . .

 _"When you grow up, your heart dies."_

 _"Sounds like a load of rubbish to me . . . Why do you think that way?"_

 _"I don't know. I think it's because it means you stop caring."_

Voices. Instead of dreaming, Draco heard voices, this time. He could perfectly pick out his own, but he could not distinguish the owner of the other voice. He assumed, by default, that it was the same lady in the picture he had found inside his wardrobe.

 _Look for the signs_. The Malfoy sighed. Those were his son's last words before he left for Hogwarts. _All right, Scor_.

Draco looked around cautiously, then called out to his wife once more. After two minutes passed with no sign of her, he magicked the lock on the door.

The purple concoction stared at him from below as he took the cooled, hovering glass in his hand and took a deep breath. Would this kill him? He hoped not; and certainly didn't believe something so aromatic could do him harm. Then again, many flowers had the potential to poison him . . .

Call it bravery or stupidity, he raised the glass to his lips and took a long swig.

Draco clutched at his head, grasping blond tendrils with both of his hands. A searing pain had suddenly hit him on sides of his skull, right over his ears. He faintly heard the glass shattering at his feet.

The Malfoy took a step back, trying to reach his stool to sit and bear it. However, he apparently missed it, as he felt himself drawing nearer to the floor. But before he could touch the ground, a growing darkness obscured his vision.

* * *

It was a crisp and cold night, and people were buzzing with excitement. After all, this year's Ireland versus Bulgaria match was something to be ecstatic about. At least, that was what she had heard.

Melody Mathrrid had never been one for Quidditch. As a soft-spoken Ravenclaw fourth-year who rarely stepped out of bounds, to say that this was not her scene was quite the understatement. She was very shocked to be able to attend, too—her Muggle father was very strict when it came to spontaneous outings, which wasn't actually that unfair, since she always managed to forget to ask him for permission ahead of time. Nonetheless, her mother, whom she'd gained her Wizard heritage from, was in a pretty jovial mood when she informed them of this occasion. As a former Quidditch player herself, she wanted nothing more than to push her shy daughter to learn about that wonderful, thrill-filled sport.

So, here was Melody, trying to get into the Quidditch spirit whilst being squished in the long queue leading up to the stadium. It appeared that this wasn't enough aggravation. Wizards were continually Apparating and cutting in line, which didn't sit very well with the other Quidditch enthusiasts. It seemed that a fight could break loose at any moment.

A hand touched her shoulder and she whipped around, startled.

Cho raised an eyebrow. "You all right, Mel? You look a bit jumpy."

Sending her fifth-year friend a slight glare, the curly-haired girl responded. "I believe it may have something to do with the fact that I got ditched in the middle of a madhouse by the same person who invited me here."

The hazelnut-eyed teen turned pink. "Sorry. I was actually just catching up with Harry," she began to explain. "We were talking and I lost track of time—"

"Chang, it's okay," Melody laughed, putting her hands on her friend's shoulders. "I'm just messing with you. I _would_ like to go inside, though. I don't like this crowd."

At this, Cho grinned. "You're just nervous because you're not used to this. But, come on, I'll make it up for ditching you with a souvenir. I'll buy you anything you want!" And she linked her arm with the younger student's, making their way through the lantern-lit trail.

* * *

The inside of the stadium was just as amazing as the outside, if not more. The place was _enormous_ , Melody noted, as Cho led both of them towards one of the staircases.

The Ravenclaw girls were animatedly chatting amongst themselves when they were roughly pushed aside.

Melody, being the first who had received the impact, immediately looked up to see who had been so rude. She found herself staring at an unfamiliar face that, while somehow pretty, harbored the coldest steely-gray eyes she had ever seen.

The man glanced at her up and down and muttered something under his breath that resembled "incompetent" and continued to trudge upstairs with his cane. Soon after, he reached the landing and hissed. "Draco! Hurry up!"

A mini-me of the cold-eyed man—but with considerably shorter hair—ascended beside them. He gave the girls a sort of wicked, amused smirk and followed his father towards the Top Box. Behind him marched a tall woman, also with white-blond hair, who didn't even glance at them when she passed by.

Cho, who had been pushed against the railing and was now glaring at the disappearing Malfoys, was rubbing her bruised ribs. "A simple 'excuse me' would have sufficed!" She shouted angrily, starting to walk when she realized they were holding up the line.

The girl beside her, nonetheless, had become silent. She was less than pleased when she was shoved like that. Well, that was putting it lightly. She had been angry, actually, then _furious_ when she realized it was none other than the school bully and his family making their way upstairs.

Of course, she knew about Draco Malfoy and his gang of misfits. They had made themselves present amongst the Hogwarts students' talk, always keen on terrorizing and picking on the boy-who-lived. This one, however, managed to defend himself very well.

Melody decided that, next time something like this happened, she would take a page right out of Harry's book. Sweet and shy as she were, she had to stand up for herself. She couldn't rely on Cho to do the trash-talking for her all the time.

After a couple more steps, they reached their floor and scanned the rows with her eyes. A hand shot up in the air from one of the seats; Cho pointed at it. "Marietta!" She told Melody through the overlapping voices of the fans. Together, they waded through the sea of people until they got to the other Ravenclaw.

The reddish-blonde haired girl smiled at them and enveloped Cho in a hug. "Glad you could make it!" Then, she turned and embraced Melody shortly, before pulling back and clasping her hands together. "This is going to be great."

Melody gave a wry smile as Mr. and Mrs. Edgecombe also greeted them. Truth be told, she didn't feel as welcome as she would have if it was only her and the Chang girl. You see, she and Marietta never truly got along. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, there was some . . . awkwardness between them. They didn't really understand each other as much.

To make matters worse, Marietta was trying to make conversation with her. "So, Mely, where'd you leave Johnny? I thought he'd be all for seeing this match."

Trying not to cringe at the way her father's pet-name for her came from the Edgecombe girl's lips, Melody gave another tight-lipped smile. Of course, Marietta'd only be interested in her for her brother. "Johnathan's at Ule's, this summer. They were going to visit Moscow, to find a lady named Baba, I reckon."

That's right. Her older brother had been gone all summer—evading all responsibility in his own home under the excuse of observing international creatures—at his best friend Ulysses'.

 _Ulysses_ , she thought with a small grin. The boy with the baby blues who was responsible for Melody's every sigh. It was not the best of situations, crushing on your brother's oldest confidant, but she couldn't help it. She was a sucker for light eyes, especially when they were part of a package that included charming wit and endless patience. Her best friend, Padma Patil, would tease her for hours on end when she caught her daydreaming.

She was jolted out of her reverie by a loud voice.

" _Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!_ " Ludo Bagman's voice echoed throughout the entire stadium.

All around Melody, cheers erupted. She felt herself grinning as Cho elbowed her excitedly. She only hoped she could join in on the fun, shortly.

* * *

And join in she did. By the time the crowd was filing out of the stage, the three of them were singing Ireland's national anthem.

"Merlin's beard, that was phenomenal!" Melody gasped as the other two Ravenclaws giggled. "I never knew Quidditch could be so-so . . . " She made a motion of her head exploding.

Marietta only nodded in agreement, and Cho was quick to fill in the silence. "We should get you home. Your dad will appreciate me bringing you back in one piece."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Fair enough."

* * *

While the Ravenclaw girl had inadvertently evaded the whole Dark mark fiasco, Draco Malfoy had no such luck. He ducked back through the trees to the campsite. Immediately when he reached it, he felt his mother's crushing grip on his wrist.

She was wearing a hooded cloak and her eyes were dark with an emotion Draco could not place. Lucius turned around stonily, almost as if paralyzed and clad in his hooded robes, and gave his wife a pointed look. "It seems to me that this would be a nice time for you to take our son home, don't you agree, Narcissa?"

" _Yes, darling,_ " she replied in a soft voice that was barely above a whisper. It cracked at one point, but the young Malfoy heir blamed it on the coldness of the night.

His father nodded once and turned from them, swishing his wand over his face to produce his mask. Draco would have liked to stay to see where he went or even to stare longer at the continuously floating bodies, but his body suddenly felt strange; the art of Apparition was convenient and uncomfortable, at the same time.

His vision started to clear up to show the great iron gates that surrounded Malfoy manor. As the white peacocks along the hedges honked their greetings, a house-elf scurried into view, rushing to let them in. Narcissa didn't scowl nor smile as she side-stepped it; Draco didn't even pay it attention. He was too busy nursing a headache. His parents, being used to traveling this way, had always managed to bend the rules to their liking. Draco was not of age yet, but his mother was proficient in Side-along Apparitions.

As traumatic as the whole event should have been for a boy his age, he was not fazed. He had been brought up with the belief that the Dark Lord should have been the victor of the war—Draco knew many things he should not. And he could not speak of it to just anyone, lest he want Father to get in trouble.

The blond watched his mother glide silently through the entrance hall and towards her plush chair at the fireplace, stuffing her wand into her black satin robes. She sat down, letting out a long sigh and massaging her forehead with her delicate, slender fingers.

Draco knew better than to bother her. Narcissa would always get like this whenever Lucius went out to take care of these most urgent matters. Trusting that the fearful slave they called the house-elf would fix his mother a drink, the boy ascended the long stairway.

Upon reaching the top, he took a hard turn as he marched down the hallway into his room. His was at the east wing of the manor, the very last door.

His dormitory was everything you'd expect for a Malfoy. A lavish four-poster fit for a king stood at the middle of the far wall, dressed in the comfiest-looking fabrics known to wizardkind. On his nightstand resided a small cushion for his wand and a lamp that had yet to be lit. He didn't seem to need to do so, seeing as the chandelier on the archway above his head provided enough light for him to see where his many toys lay about.

Draco walked up to his desk, ignoring the cauldron on top of it and reaching for the pair of Omnioculars that rest beside one of his many Wizard Chess boards(which was no fun to play unless he had Crabbe or Goyle around to beat). He put the device up to his eyes and spun one of the dials on the side, before quickly getting bored and tossing it somewhere. Mother had a talent for gift buying, usually to make up for his father's harsh words or undeniable lack of affection, so he had to take advantage of the situation; maybe she'd actually get him the Hand of Glory he had seen at Borgin & Burkes, a few years back. She'd gifted him with things that Lucius didn't approve of before, like his new poster of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team. He was sure he'd never be able to hang it on his walls, unless he wanted it to be torn off immediately, but he was pleased when he received it.

Speaking of his walls, they were devoid of any portrait, moving and/or stationary. Draco detested the thought of being watched by others to his very core. The corridors at school were enough for him to handle, he couldn't imagine having more eyes stare at him in his home. The simple eggshell-colored wallpaper would do more than suffice.

Draco yawned, covering his mouth. He wasn't sure if he was feeling hunger, boredom or actual tiredness. He contemplated the thought of writing to his Slytherin friends about the ordeal that had taken place at the World Cup. How he'd adore boasting about how incredibly pleasing it was to see the panic flash in many Mudbloods' eyes, especially those of Potter's friends.

The thought of his rival brought a scowl to Draco's face. Saint Potter, with his stupid scar and compelling backstory. He was a git who'd been lucky enough to evade getting killed by the most powerful wizard to ever exist. It was unbelievable, the fact that a mere infant had defeated the Dark Lord without having to lift a finger.

Sacrificial protection, it had been, according to Narcissa. That insipidly ancient magic had provided Lily Potter a loophole to save her child whilst tragically falling to her demise. She had orphaned Harry and made him famous, all in one night.

 _True love_ , the Malfoy sneered in disgust. As if there was anything more repulsive and false than that.

With newfound inspiration and hatred making his chest swell, he picked up some parchment and his quill and began writing down the juicy gossip.

* * *

The month went by faster than expected for the Hogwarts students, as they soon learned that their summer break was coming to an end. August rolled by exceptionally fast for Melody, as she was standing on the designated platform beside her mother and brother on September 1st of 1994.

Aubrey Mathrrid watched as the train slowed to a stop in front of them and wrung her hands excitedly. "This is it, duckies. You'll be starting your fourth and fifth year, today. My, how time flies when you're cooped up at home!"

Her son looked at her with a half-hearted smile. "Were those supposed to be poultry puns? And I've told you to take the old man out. It would do you both some good to get some fresh air that's _not_ from our neighborhood, for a change. Maybe do something a little crazy."

"For the last time, Johnathan, your father is not going to attach rockets to his wheelchair," the brown-haired woman chided, raising an eyebrow as her hands came to rest on her hips. Her eldest child gave a shrug. "I thought it was clever. He seemed to enjoy flying about the vicinity, last Christmas!"

"I think you mean _flailing_ ," corrected Melody, in her mind the image of her poor dad putting them on his chair thinking that they were lights. "And he complained about it until just last week, thank you very much."

Johnathan grinned. "Hey, at least I know if the old man starts losing it, he won't ever forget _me_."

As his Mum's hand connected with the back of his thick skull, another Hufflepuff strode up to them. Ulysses grinned mischievously at seeing the exchange. "Ah, I got here just in time for the show. Bet you anything Johnny boy's about to get his arse handed to him by your Mum."

Melody resisted the urge to blush as she felt her crush's arm brush against her own. She looked up at him with bright eyes, trying to downplay how happy she was to see the handsome young man. "Ule," she breathed, smiling slightly. "Hi. And I won't take you up on that bet; I'd obviously lose."

After ducking away from Aubrey's slapping hands, Johnathan and Ulysses did their best friend handshake, before the last one greeted Mrs. Mathrrid with a kiss on the cheek. "'Ello, Mum. Nice to see you. I love what you've done with your hair. How's the old geezer you call a husband?"

Aubrey smiled at the young man. He and Johnathan had been friends since diaper days. "Nice to see you, too, dear. Thank you for noticing—" She touched one of the strands unconsciously and slightly glared at her two children. Neither of them had mentioned anything over the summer. "Harold's well. Still as grumpy and wrinkly as ever. He sends his regards and thanks your father so much for the new TV. He's really taken a liking to it."

Ulysses beamed. "Always a pleasure. You know dad's always working, building and wiring those things. It was the least he could do for his friend's birthday."

Melody melted on the inside. He was so _sweet!_ And it was in his genes, too. The Fishers were kind Muggles that had been in her parents' lives longer than she had. It seemed to be destiny that had made her fall for the caramel-haired boy.

The girl's fantasy broke when she saw Johnathan and Ulysses cackle at one of their lame jokes. She realized she'd have to steal her man from her brother.

After a few more minutes of chatter, the train signaled it was time for its departure. Mrs. Mathrrid hugged them goodbye and all but shoved them in. As they boarded and looked for a compartment, they waved at her through the windows.

Ulysses and Johnathan were quick to spot their housemates in a nearby compartment. Both boys threw their farewells over their shoulders as they went in to greet the other three Hufflepuff students.

Melody continued her path down the hall in search for her own peers. Thankfully, it wasn't long. A head sporting the most beautiful plait popped out of one of the doors and the Ravenclaw immediately recognized it.

"Hey! Patil!" she called out.

Her friend turned her way and offered her a grin. "Mathrrid! I was beginning to think I'd have to relinquish your seat to some first year!"

Melody chuckled, setting her luggage aside to give Padma a hug. "I've missed you so much," she said, pulling back to see her friend's beaming face. "And I've got loads to tell you!" With help from the Patil girl, she grabbed her owl's cage and entered the compartment.

Upon entering, the brown-haired girl noticed they had companions. Cho Chang and Marietta were sharing their compartment with them.

"Hey, Mel," Cho said, giving a little wave as the girl sat opposite her on the booth. "How was your summer?"

As Padma took a seat beside her, Melody rolled her eyes. "I reckon it's safe to say that you were there for the most exciting part of it. Didn't do much else after word of what happened at the Cup reached my folks' ears."

As the girls agreed and commented further about her statement, her tawny owl began screeching and flapping its wings in the direction of the door.

" _Ilias!_ " she chided the caged animal. "What's the matter with you?"

At that exact moment, Malfoy and his dumb and pudgy cronies strode past.

"Well, at least we know Ilias knows trouble when he sees it," said Marietta, snorting out a laugh. As the other two joined in, Melody glanced at the retreating blond head and narrowed her eyes, before turning her attention back to the other Ravenclaws.


	7. Chapter Four: Don't Ferret with Me

**Hey, guys! Hope I didn't confuse you too much, last chapter, with the sudden setting change. :s**

 **Oh, and I'm glad you're already coming up with theories on what's going on. Means you're genuinely interested in this fanfic, lol. Thanks for your support!**

 **Hold onto your butts, ladies and gents. Things are about to get weird.~**

* * *

Between getting the news that the Triwizard Tournament would be held at their school, witnessing the eerie entrance of their new DADA professor and welcoming the new students to their house, Melody could say she was absolutely pooped. She was glad that their belongings were magically sent up to their dormitories, for she couldn't bear the thought of having to drag along her gigantic suitcase up the changing staircases.

Melody sighed as she came into view of the Great Hall and hurried over to the Ravenclaw table. She sat at the side closest to Slytherin; she had a better look at the commotion underway at breakfast from there. She grabbed a muffin from the vast array of mouthwatering delicacies in front of her as her best friend took a seat to her left.

"A muffin? That's all you're planning on eating?" Padma raised an eyebrow as she loaded up her own plate with food.

The Mathrrid girl shrugged. "I can't eat a full meal so early. I get nauseous."

"Right." Padma rolled her eyes. "Anywho," she said, tearing off a piece of her toast and popping it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before speaking again. "Show me your timetable."

Melody nodded, mouth full of blueberry, and took out a small piece of parchment from one of her books. Padma dusted her hands off to prevent any crumbs from soiling the class schedule and compared it with hers before showing off a grin.

"All right! Other than Arithmancy today and Thursdays, and Ancient Runes on Wednesdays, our timetables are a perfect match! And it seems like we'll start this year off with . . . another exciting History of Magic lesson with Binns."

The Mathrrid girl laughed at her friend's lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, come on. He's not that bad."

"Yes, child, he is. I'd rather be locked in the girl's lavatory and be forced to listen to Myrtle's whining than go to his class."

Melody set the remainder of her muffin down on the table and stood up, grabbing her books. "That can still be arranged." She grinned, to which Padma narrowed her eyes.

* * *

It would forever remain a mystery to everyone why professor Binns insisted on using the door instead of just passing through a wall to get into his classroom.

"Excuse me. Pardon me," he kept asking, getting slightly irritated when his students refused to step aside or hurry up. He huffed, checking his stopwatch as the Slytherins lingered at the entrance.

He wouldn't just go through or glide over them, either. That'd be rude.

Melody sighed as she watched the scene unravel from her desk. "This is rubbish. They're just doing this to waste Binns' time."

"You're probably the only student who'd be upset by that," Padma spoke, her head resting on her hand in a bored fashion. It was her signature look in History of Magic class. "It's probably the only thing Malfoy and his cronies do that I actually _thank_ them for."

Suppressing a scowl, since the students had finally let the professor through, Melody did an about-face in her seat. Her posture became a perfect one as she grabbed her quill and ink. Her best friend gave an exaggerated sigh behind her.

"Good morning, my dear pupils. I hope you all had a lovely summer holiday..." Binns began in that monotone voice of his, making his way in front of the desk he couldn't sit in. "This year, I will be preparing you for next year's O.W.L. examinations, therefore we will cover the most exciting subject of—" He held his breath, attempting to create a suspenseful atmosphere and failing to see his students' indifferent expressions. "—the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century!"

Most of the class sighed dejectedly, but Binns took it as them being wistful. Melody kept furiously scribbling his every word down as he continued.

" _Oddly appropriate he ruins our lives because he doesn't have one_ ," someone whispered, followed by snickers. Binns didn't seem to notice or care, so the curly-haired girl turned sideways to glance at Terry Boot, who was smirking alongside his other friends.

That smirk vanished in an instant. Terry slapped a hand to the back of his neck, letting out an "ow!" through gritted teeth.

Melody's eyes scanned the rows of desks behind the Ravenclaw to find the culprit. Pansy Parkinson was stifling her giggles with her hand, while a satisfied-looking Malfoy pointed his wand at some of the other students. He muttered something under his breath and a blue spark emitted from the tip, followed by a minuscule, spherical object. The students that he aimed for kept scratching the back of their heads or swatting at the air.

Melody snapped back to attention when she heard the word 'essay', immediately writing it down on her parchment and encasing it in a little cloud; it would make it easier for her to spot and remember it when she reviewed her notes later.

Her quill stopped moving, however, when she felt something in her hair. Melody shook her head softly, letting whatever it was fall to the floor. Looking over her shoulder at the thing, she noticed it was identical to the one that had hit Terry. She bent forwards slightly and picked it up in between her fingers. Then, she squished it to test the consistency and narrowed her eyes. It was soggy.

 _A spitball_ , she concluded, pursing her lips and throwing it away.

She scoffed, when she felt another one hit her cheek. Melody closed her eyes, annoyed, as she raised her right hand to scratch it off. From her peripheral vision, she could see the guilty Slytherins laughing quietly.

Padma was also attacked, but she was much more vocal about it. She incorporated a very colorful vocabulary to her muttered protests, shielding her face with her hand. She wouldn't cause a scene and get points taken from Ravenclaw. Just because the Quidditch Cup had been canceled, it didn't mean that the House Cup had been, too.

" _Impervius,_ " the Mathrrid whispered, tapping her hair, undetected. As she retracted her wand into her robes, she spread her hair until it covered her shoulders and the right side of her face (where the onslaught came from).

Draco's brow furrowed when didn't see the girl flinch. He had been hitting her with the spitballs repeatedly, hoping to get a rise from her as he'd done with the rest of the losers in the class. Nonetheless, after three more shots ricocheted off her black curls, he narrowed his eyes. _Impervius Charm_.

She was smart, he'd give her that. Whatever, he reckoned, as he soon grew bored, and changed his target to that of Anthony Goldstein.

As per usual, Binns remained completely oblivious to his class' discomfort.

* * *

Arithmancy with Septima Vector proved to be quite the challenge. Despite the great news that she wouldn't be giving any homework, the chalk she enchanted drew up the most difficult equations they'd seen in their entire academic career. Half of the class fared well, keeping up with the fast pace, while the rest resorted to blankly staring at their parchment and pretending they were working.

Lunch rolled around, much to Melody's stomach's delight. The muffin had barely held her together until the better part of second period, when her ghrelin levels rose, along with the stress in her gut.

When she started serving herself a little bit of everything on the table, Padma let out a chuckle. "First, you eat too little, now you're eating loads. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Just—" She picked up a fruit and waved it in front of her friend's face with a grin.

" _'Peachy'_." Padma's orbs did a lap around their socket. "Wonderful. You've picked up a new habit from Johnathan, I see: being annoying."

"I reckon I picked it up from you, actually." Melody stuck out her tongue, to which the Patil girl smiled.

"You might be right, because you will find me annoying after I ask you this: why haven't you told Dreamboat that you love him yet?"

Melody turned bright red. 'Dreamboat' was the code name for her crush, Ulysses Fisher. "Because, my dear Padma, he doesn't see me that way. I'm probably like a little sister to him."

"You won't know for sure unless you come clean, now, will you?"

The duo turned to see Mr. Dreamboat himself approaching them. He had his hands in his trouser pockets, cute boyish smile in place. "So who's the lucky guy little Mel's got her heart set on?"

Melody's eyes grew wide as she was put on the spot. She resorted to cleverly saying, "I-I-I—why—you—" She looked at anything but him.

"It's a secret, Ule!" Padma chastised, hitting the fifth-year's arm to cover her friend's slip-up. "Why would she ever tell you?"

Melody mentally thanked her friend. She was about to say 'Malfoy!' in a rush of panic; her brain had convinced her it was a good idea to name any of the boys she had seen walk by as long as it wasn't the Hufflepuff in front of her.

Ulysses gave a chuckle, shrugging unapologetically. "It was worth a shot. I only came over here to grab a muffin. Your idiot brother got into an eating contest with one of the first-years before I could save one for myself."

Melody smiled nervously and handed over the basket with the muffins. After picking up a blueberry one, Ulysses inspected it. "Well, I reckon you wouldn't want me to tell Johnathan about this."

"He'd flip," the Mathrrid girl warned, calming down. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to him."

The blue-eyed young man nodded. "All right. Your secret's safe with me." He winked, nonchalantly tossing his muffin in the air before catching it in his palm. "Dreamboat . . . _Hmm_ ," he murmured, before walking away.

Once he was back with his Hufflepuff friends, Padma slammed her hands on the table. "Girl, _this_ is the year. This is the year you confess. Him coming over here was a _sign_ —"

"A sign that I can't communicate properly with other people!" Melody moaned, burying her face in her hands. Her muffled cries of 'I'm such a prat' were drowned by Padma's laughter and a much chirpier voice that shouted:

". . . _Crumple-Horned Snorkacks_!" Luna Lovegood called out, bright eyes observing the rows in search for takers. "Read all about it in _The Quibbler_ and get your own free pair of Spectrespecs along with your copy!"

Various students—from all houses—looked at her like she was insane. As usual, Luna seemed to pay no heed to this.

Melody raised her head and made a face as the other students started whispering about 'Loony'. Sure, she didn't believe in any of that rubbish Luna spewed out either, but as she looked at the stack her fellow Ravenclaw was holding under her arm, she felt compelled to take out her coin purse and contribute.

"I'll take one, Luna," Cho Chang said, strolling into the scene with a soft smile, followed closely by her red-headed friend. Melody grinned as she took out the needed Knuts from her purse. Of course, Cho would beat her to it, being the nice person she was.

Luna seemed very pleased as both girls stepped up. She gave them each a magazine and collected the currency. "Enjoy!"

"Thanks, Luna. I will," commented the chestnut-eyed girl as she fingered the Spectrespects attached to the cover.

Melody tried to make eye contact with the Lovegood girl, but this one was lazily staring at the ceiling. "I—uh—I liked your lion hat."

"Hmm?"

"The hat you had," Melody continued, gesturing to her head with her free hand as they both moved to sit with their housemates. "At last year's Gryffindor/Slytherin match?"

"A lot of interesting things went on at that game, huh?" Luna spoke in that dreamy-like voice of hers, the edges of her mouth quirking upwards. "I knew Gryffindor would win the tournament, in the end. Cho's horoscope said she wouldn't be able to catch the Snitch even if it was glued to her hand."

"Hey!" Cho protested as the rest of the girls gasped and giggled at the proclamation. "It wasn't my fault. Malfoy and his git gang were posing as Dementors. It would've scared anyone off!"

"Except Harry," Luna intervened.

"He fought off the idiots _and_ caught the Snitch," said Padma proudly, wiggling her eyebrows. "Maybe Cho got distracted by his adorable tush as she tailed him."

Luna blinked as the rest shared another laugh. Marietta groaned irritably. "Can we change the subject? It seems like Potter's the only thing this entire school talks about."

For the first time, Melody agreed with Edgecombe. And that terrified her.

"I hope that the boys from the other schools are good-looking," Marietta piped up, smirking slightly. She twirled a strand of her hair. "I wouldn't mind a little foreign eye candy."

"I second that; it seems really promising, this October." The Patil girl put her head on her balled fists, grinning from ear to ear. "I can't wait!"

The group spent the remainder of their lunch finishing their meals and discussing how they imagined the awaited visitors to be, before the bell rang for their next class.

* * *

Double Ancient Runes was as fun as Draco expected it to be: none whatsoever. The professor was aptly named; babbling was the only thing she could seem to do. They'd barely covered the Egyptian papyrus, he wondered if they'd make it to Magical hieroglyphs before they finished their seventh year and left Hogwarts.

As he strutted to the Entrance Hall, flanked by his trusty, thuggish companions, he glanced at the article in his hand. He smirked. This would prove to be much more entertaining than his classes.

 _Arnold Weasley_ , he mentally chuckled. Today's _Daily Prophet_ newspaper was worth gold.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of the Golden Trio—specifically of that red-headed building with legs—he opened his mouth. "Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Meanwhile, Padma and Melody walked slowly down to dinner. They were feeling queasy and their palms were slick with sweat as they descended the marble staircase.

"Do you . . . Do you expect all his lessons to be like that?"

Melody, pale in the face, refused to close her eyes. She could still hear the spider's eerie screech as the bright, green flash consumed it. " _Yup_."

They could've sworn they heard Moody's wooden leg _clunk_ not far behind them, and both girls accelerated their pace.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

That sentence was music to the Patil's ears, whose curiosity piqued as she dragged her friend along through the large group that had formed.

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then."

A collective scream was heard afterwards, and Melody felt herself being jostled by the alarmed students.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

What followed that was absolutely spectacular. Unethical in every way possible, but spectacular, nonetheless. Moody had swooped in, turned Malfoy into a small, white ferret, and was bouncing him around. Melody was left to stare, slack-jawed, at the display. She nor the other students knew how to respond.

McGonagall quickly stepped in—most likely to lessen the repercussions on the school rather than to save Malfoy—and Transfigured the boy back.

The exchange of words between the three was closely watched by the rest of the Houses. Everyone was too shocked to react. Finally, Moody dragged Draco away and McGonagall marched off after retrieving her fallen books.

The rest of the students just seemed to retreat to their respective tables. Padma, being the teen she was, did what any other teen does when they're in an awkward or tense situation: she laughed.

Giggles turned into howls, and soon enough, the entire room had turned into a cacophony of unintelligible mirth.

Padma was in tears by now. Melody didn't bother to cover her mouth, her smile reaching her eyes as she let it all out.

That was the first time that Draco Malfoy—albeit in an improper manner—had made her feel better.

* * *

The next day, Melody was feeling extra happy. She had received a letter from her mum at breakfast, which never failed to put a smile on her face. Aubrey always remembered to sign off with a joke at the end, just in case Melody or her brother had a particularly crummy day and needed a pick-me-up.

And Melody would certainly need one as she and Padma headed to one of their least favorite courses of the year: Herbology with the Slytherins.

Upon reaching the greenhouse, Professor Sprout greeted them all. "All right, then. I'd say you lot had your fair share of summer holidays, so there will be no dillydallying, today. If you pick up the pot in front of you, you'll notice that I got you some new friends. These beauties are called Bubotubers. Your first lesson consists of collecting their pus."

"Pus? Are you mad? That's disgusting!"

"I'm afraid I'm not mad, Parkinson. Disgusting or not, someone's got to do the job. You see . . ."

As the professor rambled on about the magical curative powers of her new favorite plant, Melody and Padma put on their gloves. The latter observed the sluggish thing with repugnance. "Could it be any uglier?" She murmured lowly as Sprout explained how their pus was used as a 'severe acne' treatment.

"You're starting to turn into a real Negative Nancy," replied Melody, pushing her hair back before grabbing at the Bubotuber. She squeezed slightly and the yellowish-green liquid came pouring out. Padma recoiled with a horrified squeak, before extending her friend a container at arm's length. Melody rolled her eyes and used the container to scrape the substance in. "We just have to get through this."

"Well said, Mathrrid! Five points to Ravenclaw," chimed the professor, scaring both girls to attention. "And the sooner you do this, the sooner you can leave."

"Really?" Someone shouted from the back.

"No," Sprout chuckled, hands on her hips. "You just got back. That'd be going too easy on you. Now, go on then! Hop to it!"

Most of the class continued to groan and shriek in repulse as they carried out their assignments. The Bubotubers were quite the handful plants, sometimes they weren't squeezed correctly and spit the pus in the wrong direction. Students had to dodge left and right to avoid being hit by the stinky sludge.

Padma had just reluctantly popped another of the Bubotuber's boils when it splattered onto her robes. She immediately jumped back, screaming.

Melody's eyes widened, dropping the container she was holding to the floor. "Padma, behind—"

Everything seemed to happen in an instant. The Patil girl tripped on a Mandrake pot—managing not to unearth the shrieking thing—and her back hit the glass. Melody went to help her up, but the impact on the greenhouse's wall had made the shelves to become unhinged on one side. Luckily, Padma dodged the wooden plank aiming for her head, but the contents on top of it spilled onto both teens.

The Slytherins openly leered at the now manure-covered Ravenclaws. Some of their fellow housemates were laughing as well, Melody noted, hiding their snickers behind their gloved hands.

Professor Sprout didn't look as amused as they did. "Settle down, settle down! Mathrrid, Patil, fifteen points will be taken from your house." She sighed. "At this day and age, there's no room for this sort of clumsiness. Nearly destroyed my greenhouse, you did."

Both girls murmured their apologies. "Right then," continued Pomona, "Come with me," she said to Padma. "You got pus on your arm. Madam Pomfrey will have to treat you or you could have an allergic reaction. You, clean yourself up."

And they walked away.

"I must say: well done, you two," Malfoy piped up once Sprout and Padma were out of earshot, giving his trademark malicious smirk. "Fantastic job, truly. Your faces really do look better covered in dirt. Brings a whole new meaning to the word 'Mudblood'." He howled with laughter, obligating his posse to do so as well. "No wonder you got stuck in the cuckoo's nest. You ravens all got birds for brains."

Various Ravenclaw students glared at the boy, but before anyone could retort—

"It's an eagle."

" _What_?"

"Our emblem," Melody spoke as she picked up something off the floor. She began to blush when she realized everyone was staring at her. "It's an eagle, so we're clearly not ravens—not really."

Everyone looked at her as if she was stupid. Draco couldn't seem to tear off his grin; these people made themselves ridiculously easy targets. "Did you completely miss the bird-for-brains part? Are you that slow?" The teen slouched slightly, hands on his hips as he looked at her mockingly. "Can—you—un—der—stand—me?" He enunciated, rousing another wave of laughter from the other students.

"That's funny," Melody deadpanned, to both her housemates and Draco's surprise, as she took out her wand and swished it; her clothes, hair and face were spotless in an instant.

"What'd you say, bird-brain?" He asked, eyes narrowed as she put her wand back in the pocket of her robes.

"I said, 'that's funny'," she spoke louder, standing straighter to look at him eye-to-eye. "But you know what's even funnier? Your face at last year's game when you tried to scare Harry Potter." Some of her classmates 'ooh'ed and laughed, having remembered the Quidditch match of which she spoke of, and she felt herself smiling more confidently than she had earlier. "That backfired quite spectacularly, did it not? I distinctly recall you calling out for your daddy as Potter's Patronus chased you and Tweedle-Dee and Dum, over there. Really scary, an animal made entirely out of light."

By now, the Ravenclaws and—believe it or not—a few of the Slytherins were doubled over in laughter at the declaration.

Melody put her hands on her hips. "Oh, and if you need a fresher memory, how about we talk about yesterday's little ferret fiasco with Moody? He only had to be here a day to show you how much of a _pest_ we all think you are."

Draco glared. "My—"

"—'father will hear about this'?" She interrupted. "Honestly, you need to come up with a better comeback. But don't hurt yourself too much, you still have the whole year ahead of you. Take your time."

The class roared at the girl's last remark and Draco's face felt suddenly very hot. He found himself opening and closing his mouth. How—how dare she embarrass him! And in front of his peers!

As the girl gave a satisfied grin and turned away to address her housemates, he made up his mind. She was now on his radar. He'd make sure to not only make the Golden Trio and Longbottom miserable, but this—this _curly raven_ as well.

* * *

 **Aaaaand *cue dramatic music***

 **So, how are you guys liking the story so far? And what are your thoughts on Melody? :)**

 ** _Psst_! See that pretty button below? The one that says 'review'? Well, I'll have you know, it's _magic_! Yeah, because with it you can make my day by letting me know what you think of the story! So, don't be shy and press it; I'd love that very much!**

 **Thanks!~**


	8. Chapter Five:How To Skele-Gro a Backbone

**Heyyy! It's been a while since my last update, huh? Sorry. I've been enjoying my last days of vacation before I have to start studying, again. How about you? Hope you're all doin' all right. :)**

 **Back to the good stuff, then.**

* * *

At lunch, Melody dutifully made her way to the hospital wing in order to pay her friend a visit. Instead of the spring in her step she hoped to experience—having just served the sickest double-whammy anyone ever saw in Herbology—she felt her stomach churn with uncertainty.

She didn't share Hammurabi's opinion, that 'eye for an eye' principle. True, she believed unbecoming actions deserved some form of retribution, but she preferred to leave that up to the universe. Merlin knew she wasn't the confrontation type, especially when it involved her being so, well . . . _mean_.

Madam Pomfrey was treating some Gryffindor first-year when Melody arrived. Rapping softly at the door with her knuckles, she tilted her head as the matron turned to look at her. "Um, pardon me . . ."

"In a moment, dear."

"Of course."

Madam Pomfrey was a skilled woman, Melody observed, as she lithely stopped a bleeding nose with her wand and simultaneously made several medicine bottles float around her. One of these filled the boy's measuring cup with 30mL of a purple liquid. "Down that and you should be right as rain in no time," she said, patting his knee reassuringly, before she rose to her full stature and turned to the visitor. "What do you need, my child?"

The matron clasped her hands together patiently and the Mathrrid girl adjusted her hold on her books. "I—er—was wondering if I could see my friend a-and bring her some assignments. Patil, Padma. Bubotuber pus allergy?"

"Oh, that one." Poppy pursed her lips and ushered the girl to the ward. "Had quite the burns, the poor thing. Good thing Sprout brought her in when she did. Boils are bound to heal in a month or two, if she applies the antidote as recommended. Worst case scenario, she'll have to wear a cast for the ball."

"The ball? What ball?"

The lady smiled in a funny fashion, pointedly ignoring that last inquiry. Melody pressed no further.

Soon enough, the Ravenclaw saw her housemate in one of the cots at the end of the room. After promising Madam Pomfrey that she wouldn't agitate her patient, Melody strode over to the girl.

Padma smiled in a way that resembled timidness. "Hey."

"Hey." Melody deposited her books on the nightstand, careful not to spill the glass of water on it. "How are you doing?"

"As well as I can be." Padma gestured to her clothed arm, wincing when she felt the blisters on her skin. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. "So, how bad was the mockery? I'm sorry I had to leave you alone to take that; it was all my fault."

All the while, the Mathrrid was staring at the floorboards underneath her feet. "To be honest . . . " And she retold the events of the greenhouse to her best friend.

Cue the gasp. "Mel, that is _gold_."

"I suppose." Melody shrugged, still ashamed, and rubbed her arm.

"He deserved it," the Patil girl defended when Melody finally confessed to feeling guilty. "He's the school bully. About time someone did the same to him."

The Mathrrid stared at the vase of flowers on the nightstand, unconvinced, while Padma kept rambling on. Did anyone really deserve that sort of humiliation?

* * *

The following weeks were spent in a strange state of paranoia.

Melody knew Draco wouldn't be kept at bay for long. His ego had been bruised and the students at Hogwarts were smart enough to recognize that, as soon as the Malfoy heir was back on his feet, he would be out for blood.

And Melody absolutely despised the wait. The anticipation was killing her.

She took her usual seat at the Ravenclaw table and rested her head on her folded arms. She had barely slept, drowned in worry.

Suddenly, she felt the back of her hairs stand up. Someone was watching her.

She instinctively risked a look behind her, inconspicuously glancing at the Slytherins from the space between her armpit and the table. Alas, upon looking at the blond's regular spot, she found that he and his group were missing.

When she finally picked her head up, she was forced to stifle a shriek. Hermione Granger was standing at the other side of the table.

This one was looking equally as startled, if not more, by the Ravenclaw's demeanor. "I apologize if I frightened you," she started, bringing the box she was holding closer to her chest in case of any more outbursts from the girl facing her.

"Oh, no need. I'm so sorry, I had a terrible night's sleep—" In retrospect, she should not be sharing such information with someone she barely knew. "What—uh— Can I help you?"

Melody didn't mean to sound so tactless, but the lack of sleep was such that she could hardly form coherent thoughts. Hermione cleared her throat, apparently ready for that kind of gab, before opening her mouth once more.

" _Ahem_. As you may or may not know, elf enslavement goes back _centuries_ . . . "

After politely refusing to buy one of Granger's S.P.E.W. badges—and various outraged cries at the lack of cooperation from her fellow wizard community (especially since she had seen the Mathrrid waste her money on that nonsensical _Quibbler_ magazine)—Melody was left to massage her aching temples.

Padma decided to pop in at that time, nearly giving her friend a heart attack. "What's got you so tense?"

"Why are you late to dinner?"

"Parvati needed help with something Mum sent her. You?"

Melody sighed. "I'm being a git. Been trying to anticipate Malfoy's next attack, but I'm going mad while doing so." She looked longingly at her favorite snack. "Too afraid to even eat my muffins."

Padma shook her head, propping her almost fully-healed arm on the table and serving herself dinner. "You're not going to be prepared if you neglect your body's needs. Now, go on, eat up. Gotta have your strength for when Malfoy decides to kill ya."

The Mathrrid gave a fake laugh, but decided to indulge her best friend and filled up her plate, also picking a BB muffin from the basket. They were animatedly talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts (it took time to warm up to the old kook, but his lessons were fascinating), when Melody took a bite of her dessert.

Immediately, an unpleasant smell and taste invaded her senses. She scrambled to find a napkin to dump the contents of her mouth in. Padma gave her a look between appalled and concerned and asked, "What's wrong?"

Melody peered at the crumpled up food in her hands with confusion. "It's . . . "

"Yeah. What's wrong, birdbrain? Something 'fishy' about your dinner?"

Both girls whirled around to see the Malfoy heir sitting triumphantly at his table, looking on in entertainment. "It's a shame, really. Blueberry is quite good, unless, of course, it's not actually blueberry."

" _You hexed my muffins_?!" Melody shrieked, scandalized, as her stomach gave an unpleasant groan.

"I would never!" Draco put a hand on his heart, blinking up at her like he was surprised she'd even consider such a thing. "Although, I reckon you ought to get going. I hear that second wave of nausea is a bit of a tosser."

Instead of responding to his jabs, the girl got up and did as instructed. Padma was left to grab her belongings and run after her to the lavatory.

The Patil could hear Myrtle's giggling when she opened the door. "She looks paler than me!" The ghost girl spoke with glee, floating around the cubicles.

Padma pursed her lips in disapproval, approaching the door that covered her best friend's embarrassment. "Are you okay, Mel?"

This one gave a gurgled sound and, a few seconds later, the toilet flushed. Opening the door and wiping bile from the edge of her lips, she looked at the females in front of her with a malicious glint in her eye. "This means war."

* * *

It was Wednesday, October 1st. And like any other Wednesday, Draco had one of the classes he had loathed since day one: Ancient Runes with the Babbling bat. You know the feeling when you're excited about a class, but the professor makes it really boring for you? Well, the blond felt strongly identified by this. What he hoped to be a gripping course where he learned to decipher ancient languages turned out to be an agonizingly slow period that disappointed him to no end.

Again, he couldn't wait for it to be over. What sucked most about it being an elective course was that he was the only one of his friends who took it that day; they'd all chosen Divination on Wednesdays.

The blond sighed as he turned yet another page of his _Advanced Rune Translation_ book and took note on his parchment. To make matters worse, the class was mixed. A variety of idiots from the other houses surrounded him, and the Slytherins that were present were the ones he never bothered to meet—they seemed imbecilic anyway. They were the lot that didn't share the ideal that pure-bloods were superior. And familiarizing himself with them seemed like a complete waste of time to the Malfoy heir.

The professor piped up. "For your next assignment—" She coughed, before excusing herself. "Got a bit of a cold, this week, you see." Draco was sure that cold had lasted her entire life; he hadn't once seen her not use her handkerchief. "You are to research the Elder Futhark runes—best explained in _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ —and present your findings up front. Also, you will describe, in detail, your process. I want twelve inches of parchment. You and your _partner_ ," she emphasized, to which the students started glancing at each other. "Will turn your essays in two weeks time, when it's properly due, yes?"

The class nodded or murmured affirmatively. Draco craned his neck to see which of the Slytherins he reckoned he could tolerate and work with, when Bathsheda spoke again.

"Great! Now, I will assign your partner to you." The students began to protest, when she cut them off with more violent coughing. "Silence!" She said when she regained her breath, "My word is final, so you should resign yourselves already. Right, first off: Abbot and Brockelhurst!"

Draco watched as the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls hesitated, before standing and pairing up. They moved to the side as the professor wheezed and hacked, then went back to calling names.

"Bullstrode and Corner!"

Millicent! Draco had forgotten she wasn't as unfamiliar to him as the rest. However, it was too late, seeing as she'd already been partnered up.

"Davis and Finnigan!"

The Malfoy boy suppressed a relieved scoff. At least, he was safe from burning himself in some odd and convoluted way. Still, he realized as he looked around, there were not many known people left.

All of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of curly hair to his far right.

 _No way . . ._

"Hopkins and Jones!"

The person raised their head and their chocolate eyes met his.

 _. . . am I going to . . ._

"Li and MacDougal!"

 _. . . in bloody . . ._

"Malfoy and Mathrrid!"

 _. . . hell._

Both teens' heads snapped to their professor. The girl was too well-mannered to voice her concerns and, normally, so was he; but Draco didn't miss a beat. "Professor, I reckon there's been a mistake. I can't work with her."

Melody's ears flared with shame. Everyone had set their eyes on them, eager to watch the train-wreck that would surely ensue. Hiding them behind her dark hair, she did what the bully failed to do and raised her hand. She was a co-star of this spectacle anyway. "I . . . agree with him, Professor Babbling. I don't want to be his partner, either."

The aforementioned woman had been in the midst of another coughing fit when her students expressed their views. "Really?" She said when it had subsided, patting her chest in a coaxing way with her hanky. "Why ever not?"

"Well, for one, she'll most likely sabotage my work."

This time, even Melody looked at him like he had grown a third eye on his forehead.

Bathsheda rolled her eyes. "Come off it, boy. You'll work—you _will_ work—fine together." And she turned away to continue pairing people up.

Melody dragged a chair to the Slytherin's desk, eyes narrowed. "' _I'll most likely sabotage your work'_?" She repeated, incredulous at his choice of words.

Draco scowled. "Can't trust any of you Mudbloods," he murmured venomously. To his bewilderment, she only pushed his books back to make room for hers.

"Do you want a good grade or not?" She drawled out as she sat down, clearly wanting to get it over with. He raised a brow, but said nothing. She, in turn, proceeded to take her quill and began looking through the according textbook.

The rest of the class was spent in an oddly calm silence, with only the occasional scrape of a turning page or the murmured indication of having found a runic definition.

* * *

"So, next Wednesday, we have to figure out how to divide the contents."

"Still can't believe the old bat is making us present it in front of the class."

Melody sighed irritably. "At least everything is pretty much done. Remember to give me—"

"—the comparison of the Futhark versus the ISO basic Latin alphabet. _I know_ ," Draco couldn't help but stress. She nodded. He might be a bully, but he was a studious person. He thrived on having bragging rights, so she was almost certain he wouldn't let them do a bad job, no matter how much it hurt his pride to work with her.

"Okay," Melody agreed, resting her books on her hip as she gripped the stairwell rail with her left hand. She had to descend six floors to her Transfiguration class in 1B. "See ya."

"This doesn't make us friends, you know? Not even close."

She turned her head to look at him, already five steps lower than he was. " _I know_ ," she threw over her shoulder, smirking all the while.

The Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he watched her retreat. He would've continued watching her, had Zabini not called his attention with a wave of his arms. Draco shook his head and made his way to the second platform of the moving staircases, where he joined his friends once more to walk to their second class with the Hufflepuffs.

* * *

"I didn't reckon it could get any worse, Mel, but obviously Lady Luck is not very fond of you."

They were currently at the library, browsing through books upon books in order to find out more about a herb Snape wanted researched. She had chosen to skip dinner in order to get up to speed on her work (she could seldom look at muffins now, much less eat them).

"I can't believe you're stuck with him," Padma continued, leaning against the study table.

"Lower your voice, Pads, or they'll kick us out," the Mathrrid shushed, running her finger along the spine of a thick, magenta book, before deciding to extract it from the shelf. "But neither can I. It seems like fate is up to its old tricks."

Padma 'hmm'ed as her friend took out her writing materials and began scrawling. However, as she glanced over the girl's shoulder, she noticed it was not Potions related after all. "I thought you said you had an assignment to do."

Unfortunately, Madam Pince was rounding the corner. So, of course, a reprimanding " _Shh!_ " was thrown their way.

Melody went slightly red and apologized. Padma only glared at the back of the woman's head as she walked away. "I've considered what you said, " Melody whispered. "About confessing to Dreamboat and . . . that's what I want to do."

"Through letter?" The Patil crossed her arms, doubtful.

"Well, I-I dunno," the raven-haired teen whisper/yelled, "It seemed like a romantic idea, at the time!"

Melody's hopeful expression evaporated into an apprehensive one when Padma pursed her lips. "I guess it does," she said after a while, a smile gracing her features. "He did tell you to come clean, after all, so I suppose that's a start."

"I'm not confessing because he told me to," Melody defended, clasping her quill in her lap with both hands and shrugging. "I-I want to see what happens. I'll send it out, today—" She swept a strand of hair behind her ear. "—along with Mum's card."

"How old is she turning, your mum?"

"I'm not supposed to tell, but it starts with 'F' and ends in '-ourty-two'."

Padma chuckled. "Well, I wish her a happy birthday and you a whole lot of luck." She patted her younger friend on the shoulder.

As silence consumed them, the girl with the plait spoke again. "Going back to the Malfoy conundrum . . . "

"Padma, I told you, I'll be fine. I just have to get through the presentation in one piece."

"Just . . . be careful, Mel," she warned. "I mean, what if you spend so much time with the guy that you actually start falling for him?"

A pause, then laughter ensued. This time, the girls were, effectively, thrown out of the library by Madam Pince.

* * *

That evening, as Melody and Padma were headed for Ravenclaw Tower, the first one stopped dead in her tracks. "Mum's letter! I completely forgot, Pads. I have to mail it today so she'll receive it on time."

"All right. Want me to take your books up?" Padma outstretched her hands, taking the stack from the other girl. After she'd secured them on her hip, she added, "I'd accompany you, but I don't want to walk that far." And it was a fair point, that one, since the owlery was located at the other side of the castle.

Melody smiled sarcastically. "Thanks so much." She took the folded letters from in between the pages and waved them around. "I'll be right back, I expect."

"Be quick," Padma warned. "It's almost curfew."

"I'll be fine," said the Mathrrid nonchalantly. "You won't even know I'm gone."

* * *

"I should've been done by now." Melody sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Ilias was being particularly difficult; he spent more time pecking playfully at her fingers than just flying away.

"Ilias, be serious—" She tried pushing the bird closer to the window, but to no avail. The silly thing was still standing on the sill, unmoving and refusing to go.

Melody was frustrated. She tried not to take this as a sign, for she was already regretting her decision of sending Ulysses the love letter. _Maybe it isn't such a great idea_ , she thought as Ilias played tug-of-war with the hem of her robe's arm. Her hand tightened around the sealed envelope she held. _Things will undoubtedly change between us, but . . ._

"What if it becomes weird?" She suddenly asked, startling her pet. Ilias let out a screech and flapped his wings, but stayed put. "I . . . I can't do it." She pocketed the embarrassing piece of paper and made a face. "I'm quite cowardly, aren't I?"

"The exact words that come to mind are 'brutally dolt', but that works, too."

The Mathrrid girl jumped, letting out a scream that displeased the owlery's residents. These were quick to reciprocate with shrieks of their own while the girl turned around to face the new visitor.

 _You've got to be joking._

The Mathrrid closed her eyes briefly and put a hand on her heart. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Obviously, to ruin your evening," he said, pulling out a piece of parchment from his sleeve and walking towards an eagle owl that looked more expensive than her mother's fine china collection. The blond rolled the letter up, inserted it in the leather pouch and closed it. The bird obediently carried out its job, leaving immediately. "And if I manage to send some correspondence, I kill two birds with one stone."

Ilias didn't appreciate the remark very much. Finally, to Melody's shock and annoyance, her procrastinating mailman decided—right then—to humor her. He took flight, vanishing from sight almost instantly under the cloak of night.

Melody whirled around, crossing the small area in long strides. She could feel the boy's presence, a looming shadow behind her as he, too, exited the owlery.

The walk was silent and tense, seeing as they would both share the same route for a while. The dungeons were closer than the tower, nonetheless, so hopefully they would be out of each other's hair soon. The atmosphere was similar to the one in Ancient Runes, two days ago.

Melody coughed. "Have you done Professor Sinistra's planet movement chart?"

 _Right_ , he remembered. Slytherin and Ravenclaw took Astronomy together on Thursdays.

Draco barely glanced at her, before his eyes went back to scouting the ground ahead. "Of course."

She nodded wordlessly, then deciding to concentrate on the path, as well. She noticed that attempting to start a conversation would be futile.

They made their way through the dimly-lit corridors as quietly as possible. They were barely turning the corner, when his arm slammed into her stomach. Melody staggered back a few steps, having felt the wind being knocked out of her, and cast an angry look at her companion.

"Did you hear that?" He asked, unfazed by her misery.

She rasped out her reply. "Hear wh—?"

"Shut up!" Draco whisper/yelled, pointing at something. He then took cover behind a pillar, making her raise an eyebrow at his reaction.

Yet, as she saw what he'd been so worried about, she too hid behind the stone column. In the distance, a few meters from where they were crouching, was a small shadow roughly the size of certain harrowing feline.

The gears in Melody's jarred mind were turning in order to form some sort of a plan. Her hands were already clamming up, her stomach pain long forgotten. She knew she could _not_ serve detention. It would ruin her chances of becoming prefect, next year. That, and she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her favorite professor by knocking points off their House, either.

The shadow grew bigger against the pale, orange light, much to her alarm. _She's coming this way!_ , her mind screamed. Soon, the pillar wouldn't bring them much cover. Knowing this, she stood up and ran back until she could hide around the last corner they'd barely turned, dragging the boy along with her in a rush of panic.

Said boy wrenched his arm out of her grasp when they stopped running, looking at her with disdain. She was too busy to notice this, peering around the bend worriedly and allegedly waiting for Filch and Mrs. Norris to go away.

"They're blocking the way and getting closer," the Ravenclaw girl whispered, curls shaking as she ran a hand through them in exasperation. She turned to him in hopes that he had an idea. "What do we do?"

Draco pursed his lips and looked down, thinking hard. Honestly, he had an urge to push her out into the open and run away, but she'd be quick to turn him in (at least, that's what _he'd_ do if the roles were reversed) and he really didn't feel like suffering the Squib's wrath. Besides, there really was only one route they could take to reach their respective common rooms.

Man, what he'd give for a secret passageway of some sort, right now.

He crossed his arms and, at that very moment, felt a chill run down his spine. He tilted his head, teeth chattering noiselessly, and rubbed his arms. Why did he feel so cold all of a sudden?

How the girl hadn't noticed, he didn't know, but all he could do was widen his eyes as he saw the flames of the lanterns turn blue. Draco then did something completely out of the spur of the moment. He grabbed the girl and opened a door to his left, pulling them both in.

Melody put her hands on his chest and pushed away, only being able to put a foot of distance due to the confined space they were now in. A broom cupboard. And a cramped one, at that. Her eyebrows knit together as she looked up at his face.

He clasp a hand over her mouth and connected his gaze to hers, uttering, "Peeves," through gritted teeth. That was enough for the girl to stop squirming.

The teens lowered to the floor and pressed their ears to the wooden door. They were listening intently at the discussion going on outside.

"Evening, Peeves," Filch grunted, clearly irritated by the poltergeist's mere presence. "Have you noticed anyone running 'round here, as of late?" they heard the man say.

A taunting humming, then another wave of cold washed over the two in the closet. "Peevesy hasn't spotted any ickle students out of bed, tonight, if that's what you was asking."

Mrs. Norris mewled in disapproval. "Right," continued the caretaker. His patience seemed to be wearing thin. "Well, be sure to let me know if you do."

"Oh, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes_ ," Peeves replied in a singsong voice. "And Filchie?"

A splashing noise, a cat's yowl and a swearword followed the brief silence. Filch's angry shout was heard as the poltergeist's cackle rang clear through the empty corridors.

Hurried steps infiltrated Melody and Draco's ears next as the man apparently sped up his pace. Finally, they receded until the sound ceased completely.

"Go out there and check if they're really gone," Draco spoke up after a minute.

Melody glared at him. "Me? No way! We'll do rock, paper, scissors for it."

"What?" He made a face, totally confused.

"You know what? Never mind, I'll go," she huffed and stood up. When her hand reached the doorknob, she hesitated. Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake." And he grabbed her hand, making her turn the stupid thing already.

Once opened, the teens poked their heads out. When they deemed it safe, they avoided stepping in the brown puddles (that smelled strongly of chocolate) and resumed their way to the other side of the castle.

"I bet," Melody started, when they were reaching the fork in the road. "I bet you can't call Filch on me before I cross the courtyard."

The Malfoy scoffed. "That's impossible."

"Indulge me."

The Slytherin pondered this. "What do I gain if I win?"

Melody clasped her hands and rested them on the small of her back, slightly swaying in place. "I'll . . . turn myself in. Most likely'll get a week of detention, points taken, but I'll never mention you were out of bed past curfew."

"And if _you_ somehow win the wager?"

"I get the satisfaction of being right," she stated simply.

Draco looked her up and down, before smirking. "You're on." _You're doomed_ , he thought, drawing in a breath so he could yell for the caretaker.

" _Silencio_!"

Draco opened his mouth, but to his great surprise, no sound came out. His grey eyes turned sharply upon her, his hand immediately wrapping around his throat when he felt no vibration. Had she just—a Silencing Charm!

 _You—you cheated!_ , he tried to say, but only a soft hiss of air escaped his mouth. His steely gray eyes were ablaze, his nostrils flared, as his face colored with anger.

Melody laughed when she read his lips. "Did you really think I'd be that stupid?" she said in an amazed voice, a grin replacing her astonished expression. "And I so did _not_ cheat, for your information," she continued, jabbing at his chest with her wand. "I never said there wouldn't be a twist; you just assumed it. Had you been in my position, you would've certainly done something to ensure your victory."

Malfoy's jaw lowered again. _I would n— Okay, all right, but a Silencing Charm?! The nerve!_

She only smirked and shrugged. "You said it best. We shouldn't expect any different than this. We're not friends, after all." She stored her wand back inside her sleeve. He then continued to glower at her, throwing in a few profanities her way. Melody sighed as she watched him. "I must say, fighting with you is exhausting. I don't know how our entire year does it."

 _You nasty, vile, horrid, hideous, awful, conniving Mudblood!_ Draco pulled out his wand and soundlessly growled in frustration. He couldn't hex her if he tried—he wouldn't be able to call out the spell!

"Ahh, well, this has been fun," she continued to speak as the young Malfoy visibly seethed in rage. "But it is quite late, so I must get going. By the way, who's laughing now? Oh, sorry, that was insensitive, for it most certainly isn't you. This 'brutally dolt' girl, however, is going to enjoy every second of it and go to bed." She mock yawned, before giving an exaggerated wink. "Nighty-night."

The boy watched her make her way to the other side of the courtyard (where she whirled around to face him and gave a thumbs up to tease him further), the smoke practically coming out of his ears.

As she disappeared from sight, he exhaled through his nose. _No matter_ , he told himself, taking something out of the breast pocket behind his Slytherin insignia. _I'll even out the scores soon enough._

 _'To: Ulysses Fisher'_ was written, in an elaborate golden font, atop the piece of parchment he held.


	9. Chapter Six: Reasonable Inquiries

It felt like lightning had struck. The jolt that coursed through his body was sudden and painful. Draco sprung upwards in an immediate motion and banged his head against the handle of a drawer in the process.

He let out a swear as his hand rose to soothe the aching spot. He grit his teeth, closing his eyes, before slowly breathing in to calm himself.

As he exhaled, he withdrew his hand and opened his eyes to a surprise. His gray orbs darted from the dark, windowless walls, to the colorful flasks on his apothecary table and ingredients on the shelf.

He was back in his laboratory.

 _What . . . happened?_ He had been on school grounds, just moments ago. Never mind that, he'd been fourteen just moments ago.

Draco sat back on the floor, ignoring the dampness soaking through his black trousers and thanking Merlin he hadn't broken his skull when he hit the metal handle. The vial with the liquid he had drunk lay crushed underneath his legs, and he faintly recalled when he felt his grasp slipping as he drifted off into the dream. But was it actually a dream?

The blond man picked up one of the glass shards and held it at arm's length. That strange potion had somehow transported him back to his younger days.

"But that doesn't make any bloody sense," he muttered to himself, annoyed at this new conundrum. He made a fist, nearly prickling his fingertip as he scrambled to a stand. And how come he couldn't quite place any of those moments with the Mathrrid girl?

 _Melody_ . . . Melody Mathrrid. Was that it? The 'M' in the riddle?

Draco laid aside books and spices and scientific equipment on his hasty search for the parchment. Once he caught sight of the raven hair, he let the shard clatter onto the desk as he ruffled the now scratch-free picture.

 _Where was I? Was that real? Were those memories? How come I couldn't recall them before? Why could I feel what she was thinking? What was that whole Dreamboat thing? Why does she like him so much? Did I mail him the let—well, I probably did. But what happened next? Why am I only getting bits and pieces?_ His mind raced with so many unanswered questions. The girl's smiling face did little to soothe his curiosity.

 _Where . . . Where is she now?_

That seemed like the most important, if not justified one. She had to have grown up and graduated, after the battle.

Oh, Merlin, did she even survive? Or was she one of the many that had been lain out on the castle floors?

Draco's head shook due to an involuntary shudder that overtook his lean form, almost as if to erase those painful and shameful memories. His upper lip came to overlap the lower one as his teeth bit into the tender skin. A breath escaped them next, the alchemist leaning over his table by propping himself on his elbows as he glared at the picture. It was as if he was waiting for something to pop out of it. A clue, a hint, maybe even the two love-struck teens who taunted him with their toothy grins and carefree eyes. Was that really him? Had he actually felt that degree of happiness as to let himself be photographed with a girl who, up until this point, he hadn't even bothered to remember?

"This is unbelievable," and as he said it, he knew he did, in fact, believe it. The way his heart had fluttered upon finding the parchment in his wardrobe had been proof enough.

With one last tired sigh, Draco pushed off of the table and began cleaning up the mess, lest he want Astoria to worry.

* * *

He tried to salvage the rest of the brew, he really did. But as he magicked the flask back together, he noticed the basement carpet sabotaged his quest by soaking up most of the solution. Now, he was back to square one. He'd need to recreate the happy accident if he wanted to continue his investigation.

"I'm back," he had called out when he reached the main floor.

Astoria looked up from her embroidery momentarily. "Yes. Hello, dear." Then she cast her eyes to her work again.

Draco stood still, a bit perplexed. "Did . . . anything happen while I was gone?"

"Yes!" His wife suddenly rose from her spot, shuffling to fetch something from the other room. When she came back, she had a letter in her hand and a wide smile on her face. "Scorpius wrote back." She handed him the envelope. "He'll be home for the holidays."

"That's . . . great," he murmured softly, turning the object in his hand in a distracted manner. "But did anything else happen?"

The expression on her face faltered, turning into an exasperated one. "Your excitement is contagious, darling, really. But what are you on about? You've only been gone a couple minutes. I thought you'd be tinkering for hours, as usual. Are you actually done for the day?"

"No, of course not. I need to go back downstairs and make some more magic juice so I can continue hallucinating vividly about this girl from school I didn't remember," is what he _wanted_ to say.

What he _actually_ said was "I am."

Her contented smile was back in place. "Wonderful. Then you could accompany me to buy more floss for my project, yes?"

After his brain moved on from blinking comically at her, he had obliged to her request. Thus, his current predicament.

Sundays were always busy days, he supposed. The shops were full with people scrambling about. This particular store was filled to the brim with witches—and the occasional wizard, since it wasn't only a woman's hobby, as he had been kindly reminded by his wife—, and while it wasn't anything like the back-to-school rush, the crowd was still pretty impressive.

"It's Sunday," Astoria chimed in, as if reading his mind. "People are bound to enjoy their last day before going back to work."

"Yes, but going shopping?" He questioned, watching as two women wrestled for an expensive-looking hoop.

The dark haired woman rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him through the throng. She reached the shelves with the floss, grabbing pale and forrest green colored ones before paying and exiting the place.

She didn't let go of his hand when they were outside, and he proceeded to reposition and link their arms.

"What do you want to do when we get home?" She asked.

 _Well, that's obvious_. Draco raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were going to continue your embroidery."

"I've only a few stitches left," she informed him, shrugging one shoulder. "'Could pick it up later."

"Oh."

They stayed in silence, their footsteps on the path and the sounds of the shops just barely masking the awkwardness.

Truth was, they weren't a very talkative couple. Sure, Astoria could go on about how blue the sky was until he couldn't bear to hear anymore, but they did have their separate interests and rarely saw each other that often in the manor, reuniting only when they'd go to sleep at night.

Draco realized it was mostly his fault; spending his days cooped up in the basement did little to help their marriage. He was surprised she'd stuck it out for so long, with how he'd neglected her.

He felt guilty. Even knowing that, he still wanted to get home to work on his experiments. That wasn't being a very good husband. His stomach knotted, but he managed to say: "Hey, what was the baking recipe you were telling me about, the other day?"

"Which one? The _couronne_ or _religieuse_?"

"Those sound incredibly complicated to make," _and unapologetically French_ , he thought, making a face. "But why don't we try?"

Astoria actually stopped in the middle of the street. "You want to bake with me?"

"Yes."

"As in preparing sweet treats in the oven?"

"Yes."

"As in in the kitchen?"

"Yes. I— _Where else_?"

A hand was slapped onto his forehead. "Funny, you don't feel feverish."

Draco peeled her hand off as she chuckled at his annoyed look. "Ha, ha," he said in a deadpan tone. "Seriously, I'm offering. Yes or no?"

She answered by smiling and dragging him back toward the shops.

* * *

Draco was left to shake flour from his hair for the next three days. As he neared the last step, he glanced up once more around his workspace. He took out his wand and absentmindedly twirled it, then pointed it at some books to make them come near him. He grabbed one with his free hand and gave it a slight push toward the table, making it spin in midair and falter slightly, before gently coming to rest on the book stand.

A frown was deeply etched on his face as he flipped through page after page. After a bit, he decided to damn it all to hell and shut the book closed, fingers coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. He contemplated the circumstances carefully; Astoria had to snap him back to attention more than once so he could finish rolling out the dough for the pastries. The more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. And he didn't _dare_ ask his wife.

Draco stood up straighter as it came to him. What if the reason that he couldn't place the Ravenclaw girl anywhere was that he had been obliviated? Memory Charms were very powerful spells used to erase, well, _memories_. The spell-caster had to be very specific with what they wanted to erase for it to be successful. So, he concluded, someone had intentionally made him forget about the Raven—er—Melody. This was the most logical answer he could produce.

But, if this was the case, how did one undo the spell? And was it even possible to reverse it, you ask? Well, that was something the Malfoy was willing to find out.

He was glad he was already standing (he would have toppled over his chair) as he dashed to the shelves on the other side of the lab. His expensive loafers filled the silence with their clacking as he quickly shuffled over, stopping as he reached a particularly embarrassing gem in his collection. _Who Am I?_ by Gilderoy Lockhart was, by far, the strangest read in his library. Scorpius had gotten it for him as a gag gift for his birthday, two years ago. At the time, it had caused him to chuckle skeptically (what with the once arrogant man with the wavy blond hair and shiny teeth sporting a straightjacket and a confused expression on the cover), but now he had the impression that it could actually contain something helpful.

And so he put the book under his arm, walked over to his father's chair, sat, propped his feet on the maroon ottoman and sighed. It was time to get his read on.

Fifty minutes later, a thick thump resonated within the four walls.

"So much for that theory," grumbled Draco as he tossed the book to the ottoman, slightly miffed when it landed on the floor instead. He heaved himself off of the chair to rub his eyes tiredly. This day couldn't be much more of a waste of time.

Speaking of time, it was nearing 7 o' clock and he hadn't eaten yet. With that thought—and the fresh knowledge that Lockhart thankfully still remembered how to wipe after going to the loo—he put everything back in its place, turned off the lights and went upstairs.

The empty flask on the apothecary table appeared to gleam mockingly at his retreating figure.

* * *

 _Dear Mum and Dad:_

 _I'm doing fine. Classes are great and my roomates aren't complete idiots. I say that because yesterday we got into trouble because of them. Oh, yes, I got my very first detention ever! One of the blokes got caught trying to sneak some Puking Pastilles into some girl's dinner and everything went downhill. Father, before you say anything, I had nothing to do with it. And yes, Mum, I told the same to the Headmistress, but she didn't believe me. She can be very scary when she wants to be, I've noticed. Her left eyebrow starts to twitch and her face gets redder and redder as she yells._

 _My detention is only for three nights. I'm supposed to dust some of the moving paintings or whatever. I just hope I don't get Sir Cadogan's area. I might fling myself down the changing staircases just to spare myself the tale of his three ex wives. (I do not need to hear it again)_

 _Well, wish me luck. I have to get going to carry out my punishment. I'll see you in a few weeks._

 _Please, DO NOT forget to pick me up!_

 _Your son,_

 _Scorpius_

* * *

"—is why you can't mix sugar and salt up."

And the pair shared a short laugh at her joke. Draco limited himself to an amused smile as he watched the two most important people in his life exchange funny stories.

There really was no better timing for Scorpius to come back, the eldest Malfoy reasoned, seeing as his leads had turned cold and he was finding it continually difficult to entertain his wife as the days went on.

Save for a few chuckles, they were enjoying a quiet dinner in the household at Wiltshire. They had barely covered the usual talk: Astoria informing them about her many hobbies and Scorpius listening in earnest, occasionally commenting here and there to let his mum know she still had his full attention.

Draco realized he missed that an awful lot. He never actually considered his wife and son's little give and take over dinner to be something very important to him; he himself listened half-heartedly, even if he rarely participated in the speaking. But now that their son, their only child, had begun school, he valued what little time he and his family had together all the better.

Scorpius made their days in the somber mansion all the brighter. And that wasn't just figurative speech. The first thing the boy had done when he got home had been to open all the blinds in the place up. It annoyed Draco at first, what with the sun glaring through the windows at him to get up in the mornings. However, after a couple of days, he had come to treasure it. Feeling the beautiful rays kiss his skin filled his chest with a warm sensation and provided him with a certain pep in his step that had been gone for a while. Not to mention, he got to experience cooking breakfast with his family every morning. Getting everything on the table on time without spilling it (since Scor had established a strict no-magic rule _and_ a specific breakfast hour) was an adventure in itself.

In the week that Scorpius had been back, Draco came to notice a few other things, too. Like the fact that his son seemed to be able to express himself way better than before. While Astoria and himself had made sure to give their son a proper education at home, the boy had always had a bit of a problem. He had grown up with only them around; Astoria had been clear that she could only give him one child. And Draco had been completely okay with that. He really wanted a kid—not just for the sake of having an heir, no. Draco wanted to be a dad. He wanted to have someone to teach and guide with all the love and care he and Astoria could muster. Scorpius was a child born out of love, so Draco was more than content to live with that. With Scorpius as his only child. Nevertheless, the man felt for the boy. He of all people knew what loneliness, especially in childhood, was like, having grown up an only child himself. But seeing this new . . . this _happy_ side of Scorpius . . . brought him joy like no other.

The time the boy spent at Hogwarts had really changed him—and for the best. Scorpius was known by his parents to be a rather lonely and mild-mannered kid, but now . . . He exuded glee. And it really came through in his eyes, now, as well, the blond man observed. Those grey orbs shone with every emotion the boy felt as he retold his stories; Draco reckoned they made his anecdotes all the more compelling, to be honest. It was hard to keep track of all the little changes, as flecks of blue tended to make an appearance in his irises in the form of a spark, but it was fascinating to watch.

Astoria was just coming down from her high, her mouth stretched out wide in the presence of her smile. She put one hand on her chest, still bubbling with laughter, and reached for her water-filled goblet. "Oh, sweetheart, how I've missed you. Having my boys back together again." She put the goblet down to grab both their cheeks affectionately. They both groaned at the embarrassing gesture. "I see school continues to treat you well. I'm so glad to see you so happy, Scor."

 _So, she's also noticed_ , thought her husband with a slight smile. He snaked one hand over the table to clasp hers as the other one held his soup spoon tightly. Astoria entwined their fingers and have him a grin, turning her eyes back onto her own plate.

"I am!" Scorpius chuckled, scooping up a spoonful of his meal. "It's been great, actually. Albus and Rose are the nicest."

The clanging of cutlery halted all conversation in the dining room. Scorpius looked up at his father, who seemed suddenly much quieter than usual.

Astoria sensed the tension in her husband's voice when he said, "Albus . . . Potter, is it?"

A squeeze to his hand and a barely audible clearing of a throat later, his son replied, "Well . . . yes. He's the friend who got caught with the Puking Pastilles."

"And was this _Rose_ girl involved, as well?"

"Uh, no, actually, because she's in Gryffindor."

This time, the spoon clattered and sank completely into the tomato soup. Astoria made a face at it, for she knew Draco would fish it out with his fingers (and that wasn't exercising proper table manners), however, he paid no heed to either the utensil or his wife. He only blinked at his son. "Albus Potter got sorted into Slytherin?"

Rolling her eyes, Astoria answered. "You can't tell me you're surprised. Daddy dearest spoke perfect Parseltongue himself; what'd you expect from his children? Now, Scor," she opted to change the subject. "I think you've mentioned this Rose friend of yours before, in your letters. What's her surname?"

During all this, Scorpius busied himself by slurping his soup noisily. After a long while, "Weasley," he whispered awkwardly.

Astoria's lips pursed and she set down her own spoon to rub her forehead. Her husband would surely have a stroke, at any second.

However, his reaction was borderline ridiculous. He stood up quicker that she'd ever known him to move, chair scraping back and falling unceremoniously backwards—Astoria thought he'd pop her arm right off its socket, had he not let go, considering he was still holding her hand when he overreacted.

"Draco! Drac—" she sighed, opening and closing her hand on reflex. "For heaven's sake, it's not that big of a deal." She propped her head on her knuckles (table manners be damned) and turned to look at him.

But Draco looked like he'd seen a ghost.

The news of his son befriending the Granger-Weasley spawn had not shocked him as much as his wife believed it to have. Rather, his panic was product of something directly _behind_ said son.

He had been processing this newfound information about the Potter spawn when, right behind Scorpius, on the far wall, a shadow had appeared.

Well, not technically a shadow. It was more of a mirage sort of thing. Right on the Malfoy family crest proudly mounted on the wall, _she_ had appeared: the Mathrrid girl, in her same Ravenclaw uniform, curly brown hair cascading down her shoulders and everything. When he caught glimpse of her, she seemed to be staring right back at him. But she couldn't've been, right? He could only see her in that weird coma-induced world, besides the repetitive moving picture. There was no other way . . . _right_?

What had convinced him otherwise was what she did next. Curly-Raven had looked him directly in the eye . . . and _winked_. From there, he had stood up and scared the crap out of his family.

"Really, dear," his wife's voice brought him back. "We've always taught him to be an understanding boy. You can't blame him for making friends, no matter who their parents are. It's actually a wonderful thing, he's being social." As she said this, Scorpius made a face. He didn't know whether he liked being talked about like he wasn't even there or not.

Draco looked to the floor. "That . . . wasn't why I . . ." He dusted his vest off as nonchalantly as possible as he tried to hide his pink cheeks. He had made a scene at dinner.

"Then why'd you stand up all of a sudden, darling?"

"I felt something crawling up my leg," was the best he could come up with on the spot. When his gaze finally rose, it focused on the glaring family heirloom. "Needs a fresh coat of paint, don't you think?"

Scorpius and Astoria's heads turned to inspect the object in question. When their eyes found it, Scorpius' widened briefly, but Astoria spoke with normalcy in her voice. "Ah, well—no. I disagree. I rather like how it looks. It's clearly been there for generations." She exhaled in admiration, as the sleek black crest reveled in all its glory. "I mean, it's just so proud and powerful-looking. The M is quite the sharp letter—very fierce and commanding, I reckon."

"Yes," he breathed, _she is_.

"A very clear sign, that one," Scorpius finally said. Draco's head snapped towards his son.

 _Look for the signs_.

Scorpius' eyes had not left his father's face, scrutinizing his features with interest even as he raised his goblet for a sip. Finally, when the younger Malfoy put down his drink, something in his gaze flickered, accompanied by a poorly-concealed smirk.

 _Look for the signs_. Draco nodded, his mouth set in a fine line while Astoria—blissfully ignorant—witnessed the silent exchange. _He's seen her, too_. "Indeed, it is."

* * *

"Really? You hadn't seen her until now? I thought you'd notice within the first week I was gone!"

Draco rolled his eyes at the youngling, who was playing with a weird cubical object he had found in the lab. Draco was sure it was harmless, otherwise the boy would've cried out in pain, at this point. "I haven't been upstairs much. I've been busy, as you can see."

Scorpius nodded, throwing his new toy in the air in hopes of denting the ceiling. "Busy failing at remaking the right mix." Instead, the cube hit the fan, which made said cube fly with great force towards the bookshelf, where it hit one of the books and made it emit a growl.

Scorpius winced awkwardly and Draco let out a sigh. "If it comes down to bite you, I won't stop it," he murmured halfheartedly, adjusting the buret valve to let a few droplets pass at a time. The recipient was already in place underneath, its contents stirring in anticipation of the chemical reaction that would soon occur. When the reaction _did_ happen—the solution changed from red to a green color—he turned off the valve and wrote down the reading.

As Draco moved to the side to retrieve some Tentacula leaf extract, Scorpius asked. "Father, what does this do?" He was pointing at the buret.

Draco gave it a glance, before turning back to the box at his feet. The ingredient he needed was staring him in the face, he was sure. But he couldn't place it, at the moment. "Oh, that titrates the exact amount of bat blood we need. Magic isn't always as precise, so it's better to be safe than sorry. Don't touch it."

Scorpius' hand froze just shy of the petcock. He let out a frustrated breath, pursed his lips and turned to face his dad. "So, you said that last time you drank the brew, you were transported back in time or something?"

"Well, no," said the man, fetching the correct bottle. He scratched his head with his free hand and walked to the table, where his son took a seat. "It was more like I was reliving it—but seeing it from a different perspective. I remember some of the events happened, but the parts where she's . . . They're _her_ memories. Why on Earth can I see those?"

Scorpius's brow furrowed as well. "I dunno. But at least now you _can_ remember her. That's something."

With his palms on the desk, Draco nodded. He switched the flask under the buret with a test tube, draining the remaining liquid into it and putting it on the rack. Then, he took an empty flask and properly rinsed the buret.

The youngest Malfoy observed with interest as his father worked. It looked like fun, using all those fancy-looking apparatuses.

After repeating his process, getting all the right amounts of the ingredients there, Draco stood back to watch the science happen. However, the potion only bubbled for a moment, yet remained the same sickly-green color. "It . . . It didn't change." Draco sighed, running both hands over his face. _Of course_ , it didn't go as planned. It hadn't when he had tried it earlier and it certainly wouldn't change just because his son was rooting for him. He contemplated kicking the table to blow off some steam, but Scorpius didn't deserve to see him like that. Besides, being this close to an unknown solution was hazardous enough, he wasn't about to make it worse by knocking something over.

Hence, he took out his wand to eliminate the waste. However, before he could, Scorpius reached for the flask with his pasty hand. "Hold on, Father. Maybe," he spoke, peering at the object hesitantly, "there's something missing. Something we overlooked."

Draco's fingers met his temples once more, easing the tension that had built up there. Perhaps Scor was right, he pondered. Maybe he had failed a step in the procedure.

Scorpius hadn't moved for what seemed like ages, but mere seconds passed when his head turned to the table. He hummed as his eyes raked over the thingamajigs and whatchamacallits. "You sure nothing else was in it? To make it purple?"

"I told you." Draco shook his head. "I used Nightingale tears, Jobberknoll feathers, bat blood and Tentacula leaves extract, in that exact order." He was starting to get desperate and angry again; his agitation showed. "I distinctly remember because I lined up the vials next to the vase of flowers your mother—" He suddenly stopped.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "Next to the vase that Mum . . . ?" He unenthusiastically egged on.

"The flowers." It was like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. A lightbulb that alienated his dad from reality, Scorpius noted, as the man began to mumble to himself. Scorpius leaned to the right slightly, careful not to spill the contents of the Erlenmeyer flask in his hands, as his dad's reached for something on the table behind him. When Draco managed to retrieve it, the boy saw none other than his mother's favorite flowers—wilting from the lack of care they'd received, but there nonetheless. "I reckon a petal or two fell into the mixture, that day, and altered the result I was actually aiming for."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. It didn't seem possible for a _flower_ to make his dad go back in time to relive memories with his first love, but he was all for humoring him. "Okay." And he picked one of the little blue petaloid, now slightly opaque in color, and dropped it in.

Draco's eyes widened considerably. "No, wait!"

But nothing terrible happened (like the explosion Draco was sure would come). Instead, the tiny petal disappeared, dissolving into the brew immediately upon contact. Effectively, it also changed the color of it.

Holding it up to eye level, Scorpius blinked childishly at his dad. "Does that look about right?"

"Uh . . . Quite, yes." Seriously? Even _he_ doubted the flower theory after he said it. It really did sound far-fetched, but he was willing to try anything. Now that Scorpius had, and _succeeded_ , he felt stupid for not attempting it before, himself. "Well done."

Scorpius tried not to beam at this, managing to accomplish a shy smile at his father's praise. He glanced one more time at the purple potion and handed it to the other Malfoy. "So, what now? Do you just . . . drink it?"

 _I must sound like a bloody drunk_. "Well, yeah." A bit wary, Draco inhaled the aroma emanating from the container.

 _Laughter rang in his ears._

Yup, it was the right brew, all right. He had butterflies again.

He walked to the other side of the room, sure of his son's footsteps behind him as he made his way to the sofa next to his father's chair. Draco took a seat, Scorpius remaining standing at his left with his arms crossed, and subtly gulped.

If Scor noticed, he didn't bring it up. Alternatively, he asked, "For how long are you in there, again? In dreamworld?"

Draco was somewhat amused by the remark. Scorpius had deemed it 'dreamworld' in honor of 'Dreamboat'. He thought it bothersome, at first (maybe it was some sort of jealousy for the Fisher boy talking?), but soon came to accept it, seeing as his son would only address it that way. "Your mum said I'd only been gone for a few minutes."

"But it felt like several weeks, you said?"

The man contemplated his situation. "I think it has to do with the amount I drink. The longer the swig, the longer I stay?" he finished rather lamely, still apprehensive at the thought of purposefully going back. It wasn't exactly lucid dreaming, either; he couldn't control his environment at all, only experience it.

Scorpius nodded carefully, looking at something and nothing. He had to know for how long he needed to stall. "I'll try to be here when you wake," he said, arms still folded on his chest. "But if I'm not, it means I had to stop Mum from finding out."

Draco became visibly guilty. Here he was, running off to meet the curly-Raven of his dreams whilst leaving his wife in the shadows. He couldn't help but feel bad about dragging Scorpius into it, as well; the boy probably saw it as a mission, something fun bordering on dangerous, that required his unparalleled sleuthing skills (Draco vaguely remembered playing as that Muggle detective Sherlock Holmes—as Watson, he was always Watson—and 'solving crimes' with the boy when he was younger). But if it wasn't a betrayal—him wanting to remember this girl and the impact she had in his life, for whatever reasons, romantic or not—it still bloody felt like one. And Astoria didn't deserve that.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_ , he thought with a grim smile. He immediately turned it into a reassuring one, realizing that Scorpius was eyeing his every move. He supposed he, too, was feeling the same anxiety.

"Don't you worry, Scor," he assured, patting his nervous-looking offspring's head in an affectionate manner. "I'll be back before you know it."

"All right." Scorpius smiled faintly. "Be careful, in there."

Draco returned the gesture, adding a curt nod. He took a big gulp, this time—almost chugging it down—and barely missed how Scorpius caught his head to rest it back on the sofa cushions as he blacked out.

The flask rolled onto the hardwood floor, empty.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry I've been absent as of lately. Puerto Rico got hit pretty badly by hurricane María. And while a little over a month has already passed, things have been tough, around here. The only reason I have internet right now is because I'm at my university. Yes, I am currently studying. Some universities and colleges are operating even though most of the students don't even have electricity in their homes yet, myself included. But things haven't been as grim in my area as in others. My family and I are safe, thank God, but some of my friends lost everything. It's times like these when you really get to see what people are made of, and so far, I've discovered Puerto Ricans are made of _sheer will_. It's ridiculously incredible.**

 **Well, hope to write you soon, lovelies. Stay strong.**

 **-J**


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